What Simon Says,
Isn't to eat Pez;
More likely, an over ripened
And over priced cheese,
From the mold you'll wheeze and sneeze.
Maybe, even, seize
From the toxicity
Your body resistantly
Can't handle,
From the numerous candles
You have burned to appease.
Put up, or shut up;
Panhandle to feed the pup;
Out in the freezing cold
As you shake your paper cup,
Cause of the self viability you haven't quite sold.
Behold the land of opportunity,
Is not what it's quite hyped up to be.
Smacked up, cracked up, methed up...
Maybe even a white powdered dress,
You have avowed, you have confessed,
Came floating seductively during your distress?
Whatever the case maybe;
We still struggle with poverty.
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