What's up is the sky
and I'm up for the stars
and down for a cave expedition.

I'm game for a used copy
since time is literally killing me
while I got pizza in one hand
and an energy drink in the other
so the tree that is my life goes
chop chop chop.

The only chip on my shoulder
is a potato chip
because I got a dozen for every dime I spent,
which is a drop in the bucket of change
I'm saving for Coinstar.

My son Jack has made many trades,
from CDs to movies to videogames to trading cards
and he just so happens to be a Pokemon master, thank you very much.

Resisting a piece of cake
is no piece of cake,
even when the recipe
--complete with a photogenic picture--
is comprised of over a thousand words.
Don't cheat on your diet,
the spinach is always watching
and that Rolex will feel so tight
you'll be praying for thousands
of slaps on both wrists.

When things get hot
you can bang against a clock
to see how long you last.
Just don't crack 'em up too much,
clocks are fragile devices.

My motor's a Cobia
yours is an Evinrude
but otherwise we're in the same boat.

Whenever I fail I don't go to the drawing board,
I get out my scrap book.
I prefer its texture and it is,
truly,
the first square.

When my frustration becomes too much
I might have to beat the bush instead,
after all
it can't be a sightseer forever.

Don't throw me a bone,
I'm not dog,
merely a curious cat
still on his seventh life.

I'd rather be close
than be stuck with a cigar--
smoking's bad and I hate the smells.
If I'm left with nothing, I'll cry like a wolf.
Wolves are hunters, wolves are survivors.

I am just one fish in the sea,
And a fish out of water at that.
This whole situation,
This whole relationship
Is all Greek to me.
Although some things are a dime in a dozen,
Bring this back to square one for me.
I'm drawing a blank and
You might be barking up the wrong tree.
I'm purposefully beating around the bush,
And you are thinking of the elephant in the room.
I promise I'm not always a goody two-shoes;
I'll go for broke when I'm in a pickle.
The jig is up.
You're on a wild goose chase,
But what am I, chopped liver?
I know my part in this play is
The ugly duckling,
And I'm feeling a little under the weather,
I'm down for the count,
But keep your shirt on and knuckle down,
No ifs, ands, or buts.
Lickety split go out on the ropes,
and I'll put a sock in it if
You quit playing possum.
I'm trying hard not to rain on your party,
But right off the bat,
Doesn't this ring any bells?

Tough it out 'cause there's
Two down, one to go.

A poor craftsman blames his tools, though
a wealthy craftsman can afford good ones.