My brain rots, a steady rot.
Phenylalanine helps a lot.
My heart works harder to expire,
Each day it chokes a little fire.
Pursuant to my life mandate
I overexert my jolly hate.
Tire, I will of undue hate
Unwittingly adjusting my mandate.
Transfer my hope... Boss please fire
My ass, go saggy, smells expire.
Accept my geriatric lot -
Cremation please, forego the rot.
- Simon Huggins, 12th April 2002