Upon the graph the wavy line Sinks with our hopes who stay confined. The lockdowns lengthen For Corona. Strange is the year when meeting’s banned, And strangely touched a touchless land, Estranged in terror Of Corona. Prosperity declines and dives Where flap the tatters of their lives Who’ll die unheard yet ‘With Corona’. Song of my soul, my muzzled voice Is dead, as freedom and free choice Shall be what die now Of Corona.
Adapted from a setting in which documents cause mass psychosis and not wearing a mask terrifies.