He

He survived it; without going in the pit,

The days from hell; he never lost it,

Except the two days; they were blue days,

Anniversary of your death; and then your birthday.

 

It's a bit backwards; just like the Chappers,

Falling asleep; reading the papers.

 

Sis he's not hiding; he's out there riding,

The things that you see; new styles he's trying,

Inserting random words to rhyme; do it all the time,

Look over there; he looks like a mime.

 

He's on the bike, taking a bite,

Nothing in his head for him to fight,

It might sound sappy; and watch out for that nappy,

But he has never been more happy.

 

Who'd a funk it,

Not David Blunkett,

Or the Titanic or Iceberg what sunk it.

 

It is just flowing; keeping it going,

Whist the old man's still out back mowing.

 

It is amistic; look at the Pritt Stick,

Keeping it together; it's so realistic,

It's not a real word, ole amistic,

Just put it in, so he could say he pissed it.