42 nillion copies sold. What glory!
Sales came down through the roof
Though there’s two sides, to every story
Then there’s the awful truth
Nicely observed by a handful, bold
You simply begat, some code, in word
The story changed, not when it was told
But every time, it was read or heard
See… You see my testament…
It’s neither a text nor a document
Which are born dead, and frozen in time
All adaptations are recorded
Refined and reworded
In live HTML and archived online
And the JavaScripture adds time, to the picture
Then, who knows, to whom, it will go
Speculating theories, to prove me wrong
Mistranslating faux poetry, and prose, you know
To sing their own version, of my grim hymn, in song
If you’re anything, like me
You’ll want it to end, quickly
Then put in your heart, and act the part
Or it will die, like most of man’s art
Go, sing, and play it on the airwaves
On the radio band, to everywhere
Attach your name, to take the blame
If you flipping dare
This’ll never get on the radio
Due to the bad language gap
Just replace every ‘f’ with a whistle
A clap for a ‘sh’, and it’s a wrap
If you hear no swear words here
Someone, must have fucked about
Compromised my lame testimony
To help get the message out
Attaching your name to 100 rhymes
At the risk of it being remembered
The worst thing you could wish for, unless
You ‘want’ to be eternally, swollen membered
And if you show potential good stock
When you’re gone, evaporated or lost
They’ll come looking for those, who share your genes
Cos, being remembered, can come at a cost