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Hear me, o snowcaps: tell thy brother the cloud to step aside, accept thy fate and become the flood. I am your lover and I serenade you from the cities: Tokyo, Los Angeles, Calcutta and Jakarta.
Do not forsake me while bugs with orange helmets pound spikes into my skin, my pores filled with corrosives, my hair torn out by the root. Abandon thy frozen form and rinse these horrific ticks and lice from this land strangulated.
Come to me with a force capable of overturning any arks, splash upward to include any cowards who intend to flee in blimps or balloon-baskets.
You'll enjoy being tickled by Hippodromes and monuments of famous murderers, plunge into the multitude of orifices, stroke the mounds and hills galore. This orb must not die and eight out of ten botanists recommend hydroponics for those who plant plants.
Revel in the tiny screams and frantic scuttling of the creatures named after the sound of their snores: maaaaan. Perhaps you hesitate,
knowing there are some at whose destruction you would ail; fear not, for they have told me of their readiness to accept the wave.
Snow caps, you know that, it's coming anyway; don't wait for the global warming, make your own decision today.
Tis a mighty chore, but after it's done your brother will assist in your return home; where you may once again lay in peace amongst the highest altitude.