My hips won't quit
But I've tried many times to fire them.
They continue to exist
In all their circular glory
Making me see my body
Through a fish-eye lens.
My feet won't stop
But I've tried to make them tire.
They grow longer and wider
Until I am convinced I am
The cousin of the Yeti.
My stomach won't end
But I've tried to find the bottom.
It keeps on truckin
Until I resemble a forty year old man
Who's drank several hundred too many bars.
Apparently there's always more room.
My body won't quit.
My brain won't stop.
My heart won't start.
Jun 12, 2010
Jun 12, 2010 at 6:28 PM UTC
My hips won't quit
But I've tried many times to fire them.
They continue to exist
In all their circular glory
Making me see my body
Through a fish-eye lens.
My feet won't stop
But I've tried to make them tire.
They grow longer and wider
Until I am convinced I am
The cousin of the Yeti.
My stomach won't end
But I've tried to find the bottom.
It keeps on truckin
Until I resemble a forty year old man
Who's drank several hundred too many bars.
Apparently there's always more room.
My body won't quit.
My brain won't stop.
My heart won't start.