Rhymes will keep you godly and prayed;
I do keep on keeping them handy,
but I've had enough of getting laid,
even though it was fucking dandy!

A human being is pipes and drums,
good for the Edinburgh Tattoo;
wind pipes and heart beats and a bloodstream that hums,
and the sounds that you make at the loo

My head is a consort of various thoughts,
veering off in diverging directions
Each morning I meet with the shoulds and the oughts,
with affections that carry objections

But rhyming will carry your sense of guilt
far into the afternoon
Conscience is but a layer of silt,
and the sun takes turns with the moon