Rhymes will keep you godly and prayed;

I do keep on keeping them handy,

but I've had enough of getting laid,

even though it was fucking dandy!

A human being is pipes and drums,

good for the Edinburgh Tattoo;

wind pipes and heart beats and a bloodstream that hums,

and the sounds that you make at the loo

My head is a consort of various thoughts,

veering off in diverging directions
Each morning I meet with the shoulds and the oughts,

with affections that carry objections

But rhyming will carry your sense of guilt

far into the afternoon

Conscience is but a layer of silt,

and the sun takes turns with the moon