As i sit in my cubicle
turning into an icicle
a thought strikes me as rather strange
For a head so void
and so constantly toyed
it should nt be surprising if i turn out deranged
As i wallow in my lassitude
silently berating my attitude
I realise im no more than a slug on the grass
For pointless i am, and ugly too
straining to fit the proverbial shoe
i realise i ll never be first class
turning into an icicle
a thought strikes me as rather strange
For a head so void
and so constantly toyed
it should nt be surprising if i turn out deranged
As i wallow in my lassitude
silently berating my attitude
I realise im no more than a slug on the grass
For pointless i am, and ugly too
straining to fit the proverbial shoe
i realise i ll never be first class
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