They make a fine day dull, a good day bad,
the joysuckers, the miserable fuckers,
the ones who moan and groan all day,
who will not go away and bore the arse off others, pray,
These selfish shits get on my tits, the way they whinge
about the things they cannot change, the way they gripe
about their lives, the normal, everyday, the stuff that we do anyway,
the stuff that we all have to bear, the stuff that isn’t bloody fair.
They wake and curse the morning sun.
Too bright, it is, or not enough, they ask someone to turn it off.
Just think of that! The sun! The twats.
Don’t let them near, don’t hear their words,
don’t listen to these malformed turds.
The downbeat mind is not the kind you want to enter into.
The mind you want is good and bright and lets you know you can do.