Summary
I wrote this while walking between my bus stop and work.
As typical with most of my bus stop poems, there is a tune that goes with this.
Though written in the first person, I am not referring to myself.
I was smokin', just trying to be real
Wishing that all the ladies would dig me
Though I'm the short man
Bald with big gut
And oily-skinned from all the 'roids
I'm a fake man
Telling lies to the world
Because nothing is real to me
I'm not much of a man
Gave my balls to my ma
My spine is made out of jelly
I'm made out of grape jelly
I'm a foo daddy, just trying to be real
Shakin' my jelly roll