There are many worms in our ass
Some of them quite slick
I didn't know how varied they were
Until national geographic
So I did some practical at home
Pulled out a few
Mine were long, yellow and brown
The gods orange blue
Some were an annoyed bunch
They had to pause a religious feast
I had shit before I pulled these out
I may have killed their priest
But the worms could talk
They said many things
The froth in the diarrhea was a favorite
They praised the growth it brings
We felt connected
The common stories between
There is a lot of shit in this
But we can keep it clean
They had grand feasts and celebrations
Around my poop everyday
Sometimes they were so carried with it
They came outside to play
That's when they complained
I scratched and killed many gods
They'd have to poke, if I didn't stop
With many pointy rods
All they wanted was peace
And more shit as before
A less hairy and eventful asshole
Would certainly mean less gore
Rainbows over diarrhea
We thought were very cool
Planting flowers lilac and rose
Into the passing stool
I sat there naked ass after the chat
There's so much Shakespeare missed
If only he looked at his ass more often
We wouldn't have so many this pissed
