Worship The Angry Ferret

I woke up with a voicemail from a raccoon in a leather vest,
The squirrels formed a union and they’re staging a protest.
My toaster taps out code,
the fridge screamed obscenities in French,
And the coffee tastes like vengeance filtered through a monkey wrench.

TV’s got a prophet shrieking headlines slathered in glue,
A priest on TikTok twerking in a blood-red kangaroo suit.
The cops wear Crocs, their body cams shaped just like ducks—
And I just stubbed my soul on a world that gives zero fucked-up rucks.

Worship the angry ferret, with eyes like burning coal,
Snarling from his throne of socks and half-smoked jelly rolls.
He judges all your choices, your playlists and your luck—
And hisses through your nightmares: What the actual fuck?

There’s a goat in the driveway playing jazz on an old kazoo,
While the mailman drops subpoenas dressed like Pikachu.
My neighbor’s house just levitated off the ground,
The mayor’s chanting Latin, decked out in feathers and crown.

Truth got sold in pieces, glued together with some memes,
While billionaires collect our dreams and sell us beta screams.
AI wrote this anthem just to haunt your inner punk—
And grandma’s knitting sweaters that say this world’s drunk.

There’s no plan B, just plan WTF,
We’re drifting through a fever dream wrapped in duct-taped sex.
Your therapist’s an emu, your Uber’s a hearse,
You prayed for peace, but the algorithm made it worse.

Cursed by clickbait gods and the cult of broken clocks,
We dance like doomed apostles in expired Cro-Magnon jocks.
And if the ferret snarls your name,
you’d better kneel and suck it up—
‘Cause sanity’s a punchline and reality’s corrupt.