Your butt makes you feel as ever so vile
From them chicks to those damn hemorrhoidal piles
Every push you’ve ever done
Every groan you’ve ever moaned
Each and every itch you’ve ever scratched
The shame that maims you is unmatched
Blame that freeloader, your appendix
Who, never sleeps, is always up before six
You’d think they fight for you too
But what does the crap crack do?
It feels like, in one word—lots
But, the truth is not in the thoughts
Your piles is like an unkempt garden of choice
That always raises its shaming voice
To scream the bane of your state of poise
For your sleep to chase those miles of white noise
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