Christopher U. Robin Esquire

Hey there little buddy,
How's your heart feeling?
Still in pain?
That's a shame.
Maybe if you shaved your mane,
Grew out your claws,
And changed your name,
Maybe you'd feel better,
Better than you were.

Hey there little buddy,
Why so blue?
Why not try living life for once?
You were born that way I know,
Maybe you should try a different medication,
So your hut will stop swimming.

Hey, what are you doing?
Where's your home,
Your heart,
Your hospitality?
You're a fool you know,
They'll never accept who you are,
Not in a thousand years.

That fool, that jackal,
All he wants is to keep his garden in order,
Perfection is his goal,
And you've got to be kind of anal to get there.

And that cheery fellow,
Does he realize the whole world is crumbling?
I see him you know,
I see him sitting in the back room,
Sniffing at his dope,
Making pleasured noises,
I can't remember the last time his shelves weren't bare.
He's got that little man working for him,
Not his fault,
Just born in a bad way I suppose,
Imported labor is real cheap I hear,
But he can't afford it,
Someone has to work for him,
That glutton.

There's another,
The lofty one,
I know he could do it,
I bet he would join you,
If you could tear him away from his books,
Knowledge was his paradise,
Now it's his prison,
His birdcage.