“Save the title ‘till last”
I hope that’s not a tomato
blocking my flow,
I feel I’m slowly turning
from a rock into a seal
I’m sitting in the living room,
In my inflatable canoe,
with my wine bottle of soup
and my little pot of Gu
The shower that floods the hallway,
And the heat that doesn’t go,
The missions to the bathroom,
To make the bubbles flow...
Sitting in “Old Gappy”
getting dripped on by the rain
we have the strangest feeling,
That we’re all going insane.
The washing machine
that spins them wet
is far from being fun,
not enough switches for all of the lights,
And far too many for none.
In the kitchen, where time stands still,
And coal sandwiches are discussed,
We’ve come to the conclusions,
That the internet is a must!
Or the army of rock seals,
Will come to steal the day,
Oi! Don’t take the piss
or you’ll be sor-aaay!
This poem serves as proof,
that you should never have let,
The four of us live here,
without the internet!
