Paper cuts are painful

Paper cuts are painful

Bend the knee

To the righteous

They will be heartbreakers

Burn your fingers

On the hot plate

Everyone has done it

My blisters

Have little sisters

And a few brothers

In packs

Vacuum sealed

Sit in judgement

On the ill at ease

Talking to a stranger

In a boiler room

Is an awkward

Moment when

You are alone

With an empty thought

Washing hands

Will keep germs at bay

Ninety nine percent

Of the time

Try not to forget

Coughing on a neighbour

Is a crime

In a crisis

Be on the lookout

For the righteous

Paint the town red

It is a distortion

Out of proportion

In all probability

And bend the knee

For no one

It adds value