The Legend of the Urban Cubicles
We enter the room with bacteria and smells,
Only to release our bowels full of hell.
I prefer the hole on the floor,
YY prefers the bowl by the wall.
Beautiful relief comes to one,
When you get all the crapping done.
Going to the toilet is full of fun,
Activities inside shaded from the sun.
Excuses vary when we visit the cubicles,
Diarrhoea, truant, privacy and ecetra.
Universal use the water closet has,
I think the one on the top floor's the best.
Safe, clean and always supplied with rolls,
Sure to top charts by the public polls.
Primitive calls and gaseous release,
Stomach growls will we appease.
One can never deny it's use,
Or even to the extent of abuse.
Where some can even aim out of the bowl,
And others can miss and step into the hole.
Take my warning and keep them clean,
Or the toilet aunties will kick your shin.
For this is my song for the club,
In spreading the legend into the hub.
Happy Toilet Club,
Happy Club Toilets.
Toilet's Happy Club,
Toilet Clubs' Happy.
Club's Happy Toilet,
Club Toilet's Happy.
Come join us and you'll see,
Shitting's as fun as it can be...
Another one of the creations.
Everyone come join my revolution.
Overactive bladder's my problem.
Sometimes it's so troublesome.
Thank you for reading this entry,
I've been feeling so bloody crappy.
Seen and heard some things I shouldn't have,
Looking forward to my turn in death.
Maybe I shouldn't think so much,
Because basically, Life sucks.
I don't know why but I'm in a poetic mood,
Waiting for sourness to evolve from the groove.
Allowing myself to get cut once more,
Like the figure in my dreams sleeping by the hall.
Crazy thoughts from the hormonal woman,
Trying to get her reprisal from a person.
Shall write again soon please be patient,
Until another day where I shall lament.
Goodbye.
