The raging of the bees, the bees, the bees, of ill temper they tell, as they swarm and buzz, buzz as if in hell, the rage and the swarm goes onwards on, to the heat of the rising sun, they come, as heat pounds down, their wings flap, and it is dark below, as the war is dark, humming across the wheat that is shewn, the evils of weeds, they come, the bees.

I will fight also, if I can hop on a plane, get in a tank, and fire, fire, fire..

This is war.

Violence will never leave the planet. Examples below.

Am I pals with the Justice League? Yes, and also the league of women voters.

Do I ever run off into a storm of bees? Constantly.

Am I running for dictator of the solar system? I am deeply considering it. You can keep Uranus.

Who am I? I am not your grandma's puppy.

Do I write lyrics? NO.

This is no fun and games time, not a drill, it is the consequence of war.

Live on, fight on, strong.