I’m sitting on the swings one night,
Beside my friend, who’s ****** on coke.
He spilled the usual complaints,
And so of those complaints we spoke.

“How do I get her to speak to me?”
“How long do you last in bed?”
“Why is it so hard to make them ***?”
“Wish I lived like you instead.”

This mighty man; a stockbroker,
A swindler with no pride to steal,
But as his friend, I felt for him
And sung my praise of lifes appeal.

Unbeknowst to him however,
Behind every word was stuck
An unintended ego boost
From hearing I’m the better ****.

And so I learned that fateful night
Inside I’m no more than a creep.
A **** puddle of arrogance,
Though only really half as deep.