If I cried when anyone died, When would I stop sobbing? Six billion folk on Earth in all, Not one of us immortal. Tabloid papers they all say A killer storm is on its way! It may blow one or two away; I won't let it spoil my day. Headlines howl of disaster ahead, As though we soon should all be dead. I greet it with phlegmatic shrug. The media's like an addict's drug, A conveyor belt of misery. They won't get to me today.