I am a sorry piece of shit, I surely know it,
No one likes a lecture puking poo.
However I might strike a fancy perhaps,
To the intelligence inside you.
You see we are in shitty times,
It's not strange to become shit too.
Look around you, famine and war,
There's a dick dangling over you.
Of course shit is the poor man's confort,
The rich doesn't like comfort that kind.
Why they ought to end you think,
Then another plops from behind.
But miseries have their source,
And those wells are nourished well.
Humans live by dividing hats,
In many a variegated cell.
Vicariously poverty is tourism,
It gets people's dick hard.
Of course, consensus, only for clarity
Charity-"not in my backyard."
And so the tale is tall, my boat might stall,
But I'll keep my limericks limping.
One day when I'm long gone,
They'll do their own pimping.
Ask no questions, I'll tell no lies,
But my shit will leave a stain.
I refuse to be a silent bystander,
Muzzled in ball and chain.
