El Món Està Ben Girat

The world is upside down!... Grandma grumbles to a flock of chickens watching corn rain down. So much worry and too much rush. The demons are happy. Things don’t last at all and nothing is what it seems. They call fear caution. The elderly, the "golden years." The nursing home, the residence. The world is upside down. The world is upside down. Left to the hands of God. The kids don’t believe anymore and the youth don’t respect. There’s a lot to do and little work. A few are running everything. We’re marrying priests civilly and in the church. Neighbors don’t know each other. Married folks are getting divorced and the divorced are back at it. The world is upside down. The world is upside down. Waking up is an adventure. Vegetables have no taste and, when talking, people don’t understand each other. Now cows calve without needing a bull. When it needs to rain, it doesn’t, and when it rains, it messes everything up. On tobacco packs, they say we don’t smoke. No one knows what they’re buying. No one says what they’re selling. The world is upside down.
We’re progressing toward the grave. With what they spend on bombs, they could end hunger. They’ve reached the moon, but hardly pick any mushrooms. We’re in a world of buttons that we don’t know how to operate. Grandma grumbles, while she throws a handful of corn to the chickens that the world is upside down.