It isn't simple, It isn't straight, It isn't for lack of Pride, Nor an abundance of Hate, But you are here, And you are now, And this blizzard of snowflakes, Requires the Plow, You didn't ask for this. It crept up on you slow, While you thought, You were in the Liberal Art Majors' Know. The trannies just want, to be left alone, in your Daughter's bathroom, To sneak her Hydrocodone, The gays won't cower, with your kindergarten aged boy, Unless it is Drag-Queen Story Hour, When he becomes their very young sex-aged toy. You accepted all, your entire life, you accepted all, without a fucking fight. And now, now of all times, you seem to see something going wrong? Step on the third rail. Otherwise known as the third prong.