Weapons Of Mass Destruction:

The air is thick with pollen
I can't hardly even breath,
My head is such a stuffy mess
That I think I'm gonna sneeze.

My face is red from rubbing
My eyes they start to bleed,
All those tiny little droplets
That make it hard to see.

My sore throat is killing me
Making it impossible to speak,
What's up with all this swelling
That I feel around my cheeks.

Yes Mother Nature can be cruel
With her pollen balls that pelt,
Just one of her many weapons
She carries on her utility belt.