Hurting Your Cranium (aka Transformers – Rude Taunts in Disguise)
Fast Breeder Reactionaries Bojo and Mogg
Work hard all day, to keep on the job
They know how important it is to f*ck up
They cannot have down time, that would interrupt
For though they are blowhards with purpose new, clear
With bright eyes bedazzled, they cannot see fear
Their grammar radiates, and yet their peroration
Could fill a bus (terrible) with the sedation
They claim that they don’t believe in protection
Because they prefer transactional perfection
The to and the fro, they cut as they thrust
It’s dirty, they love getting down in the dust
And yet like Chernobyl, these F*ckish screamers
Collapse in a pile, of bones, with their femurs
Intertwined, transformed, mere half-lives in time
Just wait, in nine months, we’ll have Septimus Prime!