Those fingers down your pants.
That arms-out-legs-spread stance.
That strips you with a glance.
And you've got no defense for it.
The cry is too immense for it.
Much good would common sense for it do.
'Cause it's search-craft, silly search-craft,
And although it's broken most strict taboos.
When knickers set to 'splodiate
TSA cannot hesitate.
Reduce fatality rates for you.
It's such a crazy pitch.
"We'll keep you safe"--that's rich!
Jihad, you see's, the glitch.