Glad I'm Not Yew

I don’t claim to ride a bike
With long black hair to show my might
I don’t follow the latest styles
They make me throw up bright green bile
I don’t have to shave my head
Or walk around and beg for bread
I don’t have big ears that stick out
Or act like my parents threw me out!
Don’t parade around town
Or shoot up gloo that gets me down
I don’t have lots of holes in my arm
And have’nt used up all my charms,
Don’t go to clubs 'cause I think it’s cool,
And hang out with all the fools
So glad. oh so glad I’m not you
I don’t sit in a highrise office
And think about how much money I make
I don’t have a greasy toupe or walk around with hair that’s fake
Don’t have pearls, or cars or furs
Only cowboy boots, no spurs
No silk sheets apon my bed
Glad I’m not you, I’d rather be dead!
I have acid wash, but no poodle hair
That’s why I shot you that ugly stare
No high heels with jeans and socks
I rather have a bagel, hold the lox
No tan in the middle of winter
I’d rather have a ten foot splinter