Custard Bun

Walking down the street
A man drops a bun
It's a custard bun
And the ants all come
And they build a city
And a civilization
Taking it like
A colonial nation

The ants are sure
It's their gift from god
So they invent money
And real estate
The rich get rich
And the poor get poor
And they go to war
Over a raisin

Could've been a coconut
Nobody was really sure
They just can't get enough

Of that
Custard bun
Could've been heaven
Broken down for crumbs

The bun goes down
Not enough to go round
Scientants shout
There isn't any doubt
But the politicants
Are so well paid
Deny and say
Everything will be OK

Supremecants rise
For antocide
Murder the herd
So the strong survive
Then a van goes past
And splats their sorry ass
Across the road

Nobody really cared
Fascants got dead
More for everyone

Of that
Custard bun
Could've been heaven
Broken down for crumbs

The bun is good
The bun is great
The bun's our right
The bun's our fate
We are the bun
The custard bun

Evangelants praise
The end of days
The congregants all
Pay and pray
But their words don't work
Their lives get worse
So they pay and pray some more

Scientants design
Another bun
But the billionants buy it
Just for fun
And take it with them
Out to space
To rub it in the peasants faces

But then
The man comes back again
Throws them all in the trash
And that was the end

Of that
Custard bun
Could've been heaven
Broken down for crumbs