Ode to the God of Flu

I sniffle and croak and moan
Snortle and gag what a bag
Of shite this flu has become
Tedious wipes of my snotty, running, dripping
Flipping red raw hooter,
What a shooter, I sprayed the monitor
With infected nasal spray
Jettisoned at supersonic velocity
What a monstrosity I am

I am vaccinated
And intoxicated with drugs galore
How can a bug so small
Kick my balls this hard
Death seems like heaven
I am driven to scream
God you miserable shit
What sort of humour
You deserve a tumour
That is why they are all
In a tizz turning muslim and hindu
Their god gives them
Starvation and inflammation
But not Flu Print Article
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