And fasten those belts despite minor defeats.
For the CO2's falling and, Hey, what's more,
Scientists now figure the number was four!
.
.
And on will we soar on this bumpy plane ride,
Floods, winds and heat waves all taken in stride,
Not knowing our pilots see mountains loom close,
As we're Crunching Candy that does so engross.
.
Yes, those two cheap degrees much make me ponder,
Just when, where and who are the guys that launder
The numbers from which our dear daily do's hung,
And whether they'd tell us that yet the gong's rung.
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