Can’t do any walking,
But all you need to do is sit
To think about black holes and shit.
Is always on the bloody box.
I wish he’d knock it off and return
Gave himself a whopper
Of a philosophical vocation,
Of other ages’
It’s a little infra dig to grind and gyrate
When you’re forty-eight.
Had the temerity to stage
Which surprisingly never moved anyone to violence.
Would swing a live mike
Back and forth over a speaker until it came to rest
To the delight of the easily impressed.