... and counting

Eight billion people walk the earth.
Well, some of them can’t walk.
And some of them are much too young
to even start to talk.

But you know what I mean, of course,
eight billion is a lot.
And even as I write this rhyme
some more have swelled the pot.

And when I contemplate this fact,
it messes up my mind.
I can’t begin to comprehend
this mass of humankind.

There surely is a breaking point
and something has to give.
So tell me what we have to do
to let so many live.

When will it stop? What will come next?
Is there no end in sight?
But who am I to question this
and say what’s wrong or right?

Of course we know the scale is tipped.
It never has been fair.
‘Cause we all know some hungry mouths
will never get their share.

I think we have to stop and think
and come up with a plan.
Our overcrowded world could burst
and mean the end of man.

So we must take some action now;
we have to do it soon.
We’ll send all those who have so much
to live up on the moon.

Hey, some of them have paid a lot
to fly to outer space.
Well, send the rest and maybe we
can save the human race.

Okay, okay, that wouldn’t work,
but it would be a start.
And having them up on the moon
would surely warm my heart.