There was a gland. I am that gland.
I work all day, all night.
A rueful life, I know I’m damned
I’ve no hope of respite.
Ev’ry wipe brings pitiful pain.
I long to waste away.
Beware the nodes, an old refrain.
God, please end me today.
As a draftee in a battle,
The war not one of choice,
My one wish to be biop’d out,
And then could I rejoice.
Alas, my life is spoken for,
The goal of it: stay on a bike!
But do remember, I implore, A little gland, so tight.
