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Picture Credits:
It was oodles and oodles of days gone by,
In my musing naiveté,
When I was convinced true Love could not die;
Now I know the joke was on me.
Since Love is more fickle than one can conceive,
I was foolish as foolish can be.
I was a kid and thought like a kid,
In this musing naiveté.
But was ruled by a groin that was more than a groin;
So I know that the joke was on me,
With a groin that the Imps and Demons of Hell,
Resented enviously.
And this is the reason for all those lost days,
And my sorry naiveté.
A fart from my brain prevented my mind
From seeing the joke was on me;
And thus when hints of enlightenment came
To alter my destiny,
It was too late for change to erase
My pitiful naiveté.
And demons did frolic quite frantic in Hell,
Amused by my stupidity,
Cruel demons the basis for all of my deeds
(and my dim-witted naiveté),
Sent the flatus that rendered my mind a mess,
Ensuring the joke was on me.
But a groin, more stalwart by far than the mind,
Controls men far bolder than me,
Yes, myriads smarter than me;
So I sought fresh flowers to plunder you see,
Disloyal, capricious - a flitting rake bee,
A rogue and a cad, a callous young lad,
Who grew into the man that is me;
So of course the real joke is on me.
And a day never shows without rubbing my nose,
In the truth that the joke is on me.
And the sun never sets without bringing regrets,
Of my terrible naiveté.
And thus I am vanquished and constantly anxious,
By the terror, stark terror alone without answers
In my forlorn naiveté -
In my empty, lost naiveté.
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