I’ve been writing this silly wee poem
Bits and pieces of thoughts that I’ve thunk
Like cleaning out all of the clutter
And burning a lot of the junk

I’m living alone in Hell’s kitchen
In an alcove, all the way out the back.
My table’s a splintered old applebox
And my bed just a rough pile of sacks

When it’s MY daytime everyone’s sleeping
When they’re working I’m out for the count
The problem I see with this dichotomy
Is this barrier’s to big to surmount

Im learning all about diseases
My own, to be completely precise
You know, they can duplicate MS
And exhibit in laboratory mice

Matey and Nushie eat fresh meat
Not that God awful shit comes in cans
And not from a company that tortures it’s pets
Vivisectionists known as “Iams”

You know that our country is fucked up
Rich and poor, and so wide is the range
That a burglar doing his time for recidivist crime
Can gets a taxpayer-funded sex change

Christmas is here for the scumbags
They’re running amok every day
Helping themselves to where you and me dwell
Taking bikes and just riding away

Pretty soon now, it will be my birthday
Being 40 has flown out the door
The day’s done a bunk, like these thoughts that I thunk
And I can’t thunk any thinking no more.