As ultrasound vibrations pierce my dreams,
Bringing a vision that frightens me cold
Of Operating Thetans' crackpot schemes:
Ripping off stars and fans who are told
That only through cash and audits galore
May mortals ascend to L. Ron's Sea Org.
Ev'ry detail I hear sickens me more;
Now instead of life I yearn for the morgue.
Oh what is this fate to which I am doomed?
Woman who follows Tom like a puppy,
Man a Bedlamite, and me here enwombed
Awash in fluid like some brainless guppy.
Mom, in your uterus I have suffered enough—
Ah, I wish I'd implanted in Hilary Duff!