Do not go gentle against that fat sped
Trolling should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, Rage against the dying of the thread
Though wise pests at the end know thread is dead
Because their words had forked no tism they
Do not go gentle against that fat sped
ONA boys, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their wookie texts and gimmick xeets might slay
Rage, Rage against the dying of the thread
Stalker childs who prodded the pig to fright
And learn, too late, to jail they are away
Do not go gentle against that fat sped
Kiwi bros, near coom, who mock his fool plight
To deny how fat he is and how gay
Rage, Rage against the dying of the thread
And you, fat faggot, there on xitters height
Sob, seethe, for I now swear this oath today
Do not go gentle against that fat sped
Rage, rage against the dying of the thread.