I, I,
I
by I, I, I, I— I, I, I Majored in self-knowledge. (Sigh, sigh, sigh) Woe, woe, woe, woe: I have suffered so Much I’m suicidal. (Snurfle, woe, woe.) No, I won’t change my habits, else how should I create? But I’ll guzzle booze and swallow pills And prate, prate, prate—About my awful love life, My traumas, my stubbed toe, My mother and my brother and my Woe, woe, woe. Now I’m dead and gone to heaven: Suicide really works. But Christ! I am surrounded By Yahoos, Boobs, and Jerks! I quarrelled with Saint Peter And said, “It seems very odd No one here appreciates me.” He said, “Take it up with God.” God was on Her golden throne. I approached Her with awe. I recited her my finest lines. She said, “Haw, haw, haw.”“Haw, haw, haw?” I queried, Unenthusiastically. “Oh, Lord, how can this happen To me, me, me!” So here I went and killed myself To find there’s something worse: God’s the toughest critic In the whole damned universe ! |
