I find adulting is no fun at all,
People tell me to grow up, they have a lot of gall.
I'll never be any good at this adult thing,
You'd know that if you could only hear me sing.
My voice you see, never made it past twelve,
It's kind of a combination of Fozzie Bear and an elf.
I still love cartoons and to color,
To say that word and not the other,
'cause I make up my own words all the time,
Some of them may be very hard to rhyme.
So I won't use them in a poem, people would get upset.
I think I may need to get a therapy pet.
Yes, growing up is not for the weak,
And I still can't fold a fitted sheet.
|
