"We are a race of tit-men, and soar but little higher in our intellectual flights than the columns of the daily paper"(Henry David Thoreau).
Outlandish as it may seem to you, son,
It was not your place to invite that girl,
Never once did you consider our pain
To see her again in that state, no fun!
Maybe you saw fit to bring her, hellbent,
Egotistical brat you are, eyes swirl
Needlessly in circles, nothing to gain.
Terrible as it sounds, you must learn tact.
The point is to smell bullshit from its scent,
Insane as that may sound, or are you deaf
To realize reason is on your side?
Monstrous to tantalize you with a fact,
Eventually, even you will soon laugh,
Nevertheless, no one is satisfied.
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