| Perched upon my stool, at the Local Watering Hole, Contemplating the Mystery of Life, on an Average, Normally Wet Afternoon, in the Middle of Never… 
| Everything is uncertain Except the weather – rain, With a chance of more rain Then maybe a monsoon or a typhoon thrown in for good measure in the afternoon And curry – makes poop It’s practically guaranteed! And death – everybody does it, you know (That’s a certainty you can count on). Rain, curry poop and death are the only things I’m sure of. (A poem from before, take two.) |
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