These Chickens

[Intro] She dances with abandon, her movements echoing through the farmhouses. We witness these moments, these simple joys. [Verse 1] What checks do we need? A mark, perhaps, left by a chicken’s peck, revealing the flaws of donkeys who converse with wise bananas hidden beyond the sun’s reach. It’s the chickens, driven by some strange compulsion, who scratch cryptic messages into the earth—messages that speak of alliances, of bonds to deities dwelling in realms untouched by sunlight. [Chorus] Oh! These chickens, the chickens, chickens chicken-chickens! they emerge from the shadows of the donkeys’ failings, proclaiming empty promises of wealth, of a golden future shimmering in the broth of chicken soup. These chickens, the chickens, chickens chicken-chickens! Yet, beneath this facade, the truth lies not; it hovers somewhere between the soil and the cryptic messages. These chickens, the chickens, chickens chicken-chickens! [Verse 2] The farmhouses are adorned with tales, where chickens roost and speak of donkeys who once engaged in intellectual banter, now lost to time. This is their creation, a mosaic of life woven from currency and camaraderie, as chickens band together, yearning for connection, for a place to call home. [Chorus] Oh, these chickens, the chickens, chickens chicken-chickens The blessings of the donkeys, mingled with the bushings of social hierarchy, lack true wisdom. These chickens, the chickens, chickens chicken-chickens! But it’s the upkeep of these songs, the heritage of those who once sang them, that we cherish. Our avian ancestors taught us to honor the donkeys and bananas, to acknowledge a higher intellect. And so it is. These chickens, the chickens, chickens chicken-chickens!