a quarter of a century
and i'm still an asshole
by now most wars would have been finished
but still i'm at it
like i'm in it with a chance
writing poems about romance
while screwing rusty furniture to death
excuse me if i refuse another breath
i've long overstayed my welcome
except it's so difficult to go
when every other guy i know
like me is one unwavering asshole
why don't they wrap our necks in rope
and drag us 'round the town square
for the children all to stare
anybody worth a damn
by now would've become more than what i am