When the credits finally Roll for this, the Worst story ever Told, don't bother Sifting through the names For yours or anyone you know Unless they were by chance a shepherd king A virgin birth, a resurrection, a messianic prince or some such childish thing You can storm the edit suite Or move to block its theatrical release But I think we can safely guarantee There will be no revisions to the script made on behalf of a supporting caste Because history exalts only the p**nography of force That of murderers and psychopaths The rest of us, of course, stricken from the narrative wholesale A backdrop to their tale As we, the two bits Are ushered on and swiftly off the stage with Jawbones of a**es No stirring curtain call for the ma**es No floral bouquet No breaking of legs No recurring role No artistic control And so in these days, in this terminal phase It's all left to chance A piece of advice, if you're cast on thin ice You may as well dance Do what you feel you must But as for me, I was not Put upon this earth To subjugate or serve