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There is a gas manager named Hank,
Who puts his currencies in a bank.
He values handling propane
Over him handling methane.
He stuffs his work shirt with a gas tank.
I have taken life I cannot giveI have pulled the veil of past shadows over meTo search for peace I have taken and cannot findBut still I reach, searching amongst distorted memories of what I must be
There was a blue creature called a smurf.
His tiny mushroom home was his turf.
One day, he picked up berries,
And he's guided by fairies.
He was itching because he had scurf.
Here's a villain named Robbie Rotten
Whose bad deeds are nearly forgotten.
He wants to continue sloth
In order to hamper growth.
His efforts are then misbegotten.
It starts with the whispers
Breathed into inhabitants' ears
The chilling wind-like purrs
They spread their material fears
"There must be more money!"
The voices belonging to no one sigh
Hidden; hiding in the dawn of the day
Scared; locked away in the basement all night
Knowing that if you step out in the fray
Death will surely find you, but not from fright
In the end, you would just be a number
