Tunes in my head: Poor Heart by Phish
Atmosphere: Bored
You taunt me like a penguin at night
And then you talk and give me such a fright
At eight in the morning I see you smirk
And when you get me, you might be a jerk
This poem is awful, and I'm sure you know it
But that's your fault, for being such a twit
Even the rhyming scheme sucks so bad
But that's not a problem, cause you're so rad
Every day I see you, and it just gets gradually worse
You're so full of crap, you'll gradually burst
But I still love ya, and take your comments well
And hey, you're even the sort of guy to be swell
So when it hits midnight, and your birthday begins
Don't be near those nasty bottled gins
I'm surprised you've survived all of this time with me
But hey, maybe you're just not listening
Yes, that was a particularly bad one
But one day, I guess you'll tell your son
About the day a maniac wrote so fast
About his friend, a guy named Bas
And there's no lines, nothing more to say
So all there is to it is to go "happy birthday!"
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