In every kind of situation
There seems to be a dispute
In a state of contemplation
Have a sense of disrepute
Every whichaway you turn
There’s an object in the way
For every bridge that you burn
A stomach vomits up each meal
And when you’re too sick
Don’t know how you feel
Except the mess is awful thick
What is left turns out to be right
When you’re swinging wrong
You’re ready to start a fight
Really weak, pretend to be strong
Trespassing in my garden
I have to tell you you’re wrong
So please beg your pardon
The North is the South
And the East is in the West
Lies coming out your mouth
Won’t give your lips a rest
The conduct is so outrageous
And yet you show no shame
The illness has turned contagious
Dark clouds over the name
Large pink elephants are seen
And other illusions as well
Independent of how you lean
On your way straight to Hell
Where there is any evil abroad
And the right of might arises
Men must take up the sword
In hope of achieving compromise
In the thralldom of the nations
Where freedoms are denied
There are too many tribulations
On those who have cried
Thus there is counter to posterity
And there is no way around
No matter a tongue’s dexterity
Where no victory could abound
Might as well be furious
The situation is an anomaly
Makes one rather curious
At the depth of the tragedy