It’s fun in the Sun, but a pain in the rain
For those poor blighters bombarded, again and again
Cracked by the flak, from our constant attack
Such a purposeful, persistent, military campaign
We’re used to the heat, in our hidden retreat
In our tightly packed bunker, we faithful remain
Without a charge, we still manage to enlarge
Our presence and influence, to win the game
Our parasitic unit, of tiny toy soldiers
Will kill, till time stands still, because then
We’ll have collapsed enough of your functions
To suck you into our army, of little green men