From the underwear under my bed
Comes the smell of old pork and stale bread
Though the leathery treat
May be deadly to eat
If it kills me at least I’ll be fed
If a movie star’s blessing you lack
When you ask them for sex in the sack
Tell them just where you are
And they’ll send you a car
Though it’s doubtful you’ll ever come back
Yes, a planet has formed in my garden
It is growing and starting to harden
I am eager to see
What the science will be
It’s a cabbage. I do beg your pardon
Once again, while on garden patrol
I discovered a tiny black hole
In the gravity well
Is a curious smell
From a wandering star. Or a mole
There are neighbours I need to destroy
But a hitman is hard to employ
Just a wandering bus
Quick and easy, no fuss
It would give me incredible joy
He is rancid, and everyone knows
From his head lice to gnarly old toes
Though he smells like a ditch
He’s incredibly rich
I would bang him for cash I suppose
There’s a gateway, a portal of light
And I stand here before it, tonight
It may lead me to death
And embrace my last breath
But its pull is too potent to fight
It would seem to be foolishly petty
For a mask to be put on a yeti
Although spreading the virus
Is never desirous
He’s sure to be breathless and sweaty
“You are finished! Surrender your sword!”
Cries the pirate while climbing aboard
But the victim is vexed
About what happens next
“I have quite a collection, my lord...
So could you be a little more specific? Would you prefer the scimitar, the sabre, or perhaps this fine cutlass... Ah. Yes, I see... the dagger at my throat certainly does bring some clarity to the proceedings. Shall we begin again? So...
Why not all of these weapons, my lord?”There is yearning and hunger and greed
As she enters the city to feed
She unleashes the urge
And she soars to the surge
Of the heat from their hearts as they bleed
