As The World Turns ,

The weather cauldron is always churning
From sea to fiercely coral bleaching sea
And all of the koalas are burning
In a eucalyptol potpourri...
As still more targets of the reapers blade
Swinging through a pecuniary arc
Where holding the handle is the rich man's trade
Of amusement...for a destruction park.
Of course the thing to do is stop the swing
As to arrest the blade in it's motion,
Ending forever all blood diamond bling
And all the plastic crap in the ocean.
And if you think this assessment is daft
Check your own grip on reality's shaft.