| The undercover poet will be here before you
know it, He's been living as a yuppie in the 'burbs. His rhymes are all emphatic and he uses fancy adjec- Tives, and always buys the very latest verbs. His wife is a stockbroker and he'd sometimes like to choke her When the balance in the checkbook doesn't work. One daughterr's pushing grass and the other sells her ass And his only son's a little fucking jerk. On every Monday morning the alarm clock gives a warning That another working week is set to start. He'll shit and shave and shower and choose a suit with power And eat an oat bran muffin for his heart. His wife heads off for her job as he climbs into the SAAB (His daughters have already gone to school) He tells his son to play fair as he drops him off at day care, But he knows his son will always play the fool. But he takes it all in stride as he begins his ride In his status-symbol four-door turbo SAAB. He gives a little nod and begins to feel like god When he feels that mighty engine start to throb. And if he's feeling worse, he writes a little verse (Or a lim'rik if he's feeling sorta naughty). He sets it up in time with a little twisty rhyme Then he wads it up and throws it in the potty. Yeah, he saw the film where Robin plays a teacher with a job in Some little private school in the East. He admires Poe and Shelley, but he thinks that T. S. Eli- Ot should have tried to rhyme his stuff at least. Yeah, the undercover poet will be here before you know it. He's been living as a yuppie in the 'burbs. His rhymes are all emphatic and he uses fancy adjec- Tives and acquires all the very latest verbs. His rhymes are automatic and his rhythm's somewhat static And his poetry is just a lot of words. |