Procrastination, My fair lady, Why must you compel me To worship you When I have so many and so urgent things to do? Fine. So maybe it is not your fault. So I'm just lazy. Okay. But you are so tempting. Lulling me away from so many chores (Or a death by boredom - who can really tell?) Sometimes you offer me the prettiest of pictures, Sometimes the funniest of videos, Other times merely my bed and the ceiling, But more often books. Beautiful, beutiful books. So why should I scold you For taking my time When those are the hours I most lovely spent?