They're such a big disgrace.
They will tell you anything to get to second
baseball, baseball he thinks he's gonna score.
If you let him go all the way then you are a
horticulturalist studies flowers, geologist studies rocks.
The only thing a guy wants from you is a place to put his
cockroaches, beetles, butterflies and bugs.
Nothing makes him happier than a giant pair of
jugglers and acrobats, a dancing bear named Chuck.
All guys really want to do is
forget it, no such luck.
|Source of poem|
*pardon my french