If you've lost everything
and haven't got a brass farthing;
if you're burdened in depth;
if your sweetheart left you once and for all
and your own children consider you a pest;
if you've lost all your good friends;
and your doctor unaffectedly told you
that your cancer wasn't curable at all,
that your lifetime would end at Christmas �
then you must be careful.
If then anybody asks you: �How're you doing?�
You have to answer: �Never better!�
with a broad smile on your face.
Or else the gang around you
would certainly beat you on the spot
or swallow you alive.
What a blowout!
One less rival in a cut-throat competition
Then your pickled remnants
would be assorted for re-use
as absolutely nothing should be wasted �
� not even you.