Her legs, my head, went to bed,
Then something happened to us.
We merged into a dystopian atrophy,
But we're not making a fuss.
What can we do, maybe a new flu,
There's an experiment like this.
A married couple went to bed,
Found his shit floating in her piss.
Plus I like looking at legs,
And sure she doesn't mind.
Her mind is gone with the brain,
Compromise of a convenient kind.
Now I don't know what the future holds,
It ain't looking very bright.
Not only can I not go to my office,
I can't even face light.
What if my wife finds out?
She's gonna boil my dick.
But given that I'm a stump on legs,
She might consider me sick.
Maybe I'm dead or it's all in my head,
Maybe someone did a spell.
Well whatever it is, sure in a piss,
What a way to walk to hell.
