I climb upstairs it's full of snares,
I say fuck you mister god.
I know what you do up there,
I've seen the forked anal rod.
There's no sense, in a world nonsense,
Dubious people are at the helm.
When people like me, in situations shitty,
Live in their phlegmatic phlegm.
It's so bad, I get really sad,
Not much now I can do.
Who knows where, a miss will care,
Or I continue to fuck a shrew.
But I can walk, and cook I will,
Making sure the egg is nice and fried.
One day I'll surely look back and say,
I succeeded because I tried.
