Classic Poem

I feel great
First thing in the morning
I'm up with a leap
and I spit on my hands
and roar,
" Who do I kill today? "

Young people?
Hell, they think
they're indestructible.
Let 'em take all
the rope they want.
If they freak out,
give 'em a diploma anyway
stamped on ass-skin:
This Poor Bastard
Is Now Qualified To Collect Turds