Your life is your fault. Be it good or bad
Your life is your fault, be it happy or sad
The way you react is yours to choose
Composure of mood, that’s yours to lose
Where did it go? What happened to the dream?
That future vision; promise of a world yet seen.
Past generations struggled, now it has mellowed
Life is less difficult for a pigmented fellow
Everyone has a mobile! Isn’t it great Talking all the time, catch up with a mate Call up your mum…
“Commander! It’s gone! The ship has gone!”“Again?! They must know!” “I don’t think they do, though they seemed to have…
The driver, grey matter, a computer upstairs
The governor, caretaker, looks after affairs
Persevere one’s existence, always alert
A nanny of sorts, avoiding all hurt
Those shoes aren’t right. What were you thinking?!
Match with that jacket? Gosh, you must be drinking
How much do you weigh? Is that not a lot?
No wonder those trousers barely fit your butt
You’re into whose music? Have you no taste?
How do you enjoy that? You’re a disgrace.
Fifty years on the planet, travelled, read, watched, talked…..there’s still only one thing I’m sure of.
I’m very busy! You are? Doing what? Looks to me like you’re doing squat! I’m very busy! Always rushing around…
It’s not a nice name, troll, troll, troll
Not flattering, nor friendly, not at all
Fail? I don’t think so, doesn’t really fit
It does not reflect my searing wit
The jolly japing, the funny asides
It all gentle ribbing, I tell no lies