Decided to do a broadcast with my roomates in the living room. Under the Primus and banter I wrote this poem.
We Don't Even Know Why.
Tomorrow on the bus I'll sit in the back,
dressed as a penguin with ash on my slacks.
I'll piss off the driver but after the fact,
something will cause neighboring cars to crash.
All the dogs will gnash against their finances.
I am certain of it. Do they hate all who waddle
or did god make me special? I suppose it could do
with this blasted penguin costume.
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