The other day I was oiling my Glock,
Planning to raise the human-race stock,
When Mother History gave a tick-tock,
And I realized that no longer guns rock.
I hoped to whack my best old ex-friend Ray,
A guy I'd known well and who lived in L.A.,
For taking my gal would I make him pay,
The tough part was how to make getaway.
But as I thought and rehashed and honed,
I wished that I could just send a clone,
And tell the cops t'wasn't me in that zone,
And then it hit me, why not send a drone?