“People are 97% water and no damn good.”
They’d do what they oughta,
If they god dammned could,
But they can’t, so they don’t,
And they ain’t gonna change.
It’s a hundred percent fact,
That the truly pure,
Are more or less demure,
And don’t make a show,
Of a holy man act.
Those precious few don’t affect the case,
For the utterly pure never win the race,
Which always goes to the mostly base,
Cause none of us likes very much to be,
Reminded too much that we’re deeply flawed,
Though we talk a bit about being awed,
By those few among us who walk with God.
Then too the vast mass,
Of the flawed and crass,
Like nothing better in the end,
Than a deep and sweet crow,
At the predicament of them,
Who get caught, caught, caught,
Where they ought not go.
Who’s to say the vast herd,
Isn’t better off for the word,
To get around and resound,
Among the flawed but sound,
That if you should get caught,
Doing what you shouldn’t ought,
Ninety Seven Percent will pretend,
That your act was round the bend,
And the mocking, the mocking, will never end.
