Please do not offer me one of those books
That promises ways of improving my looks
That says if I only restricted my diet
I’d live to one hundred. I ain’t gonna try it
Please don’t expect me to read your advice
About how I could be much more slender, or nice
I don’t want to stare at my own little poos
As they lie like dead dolphins abeach in the loo
And I have no idea what your jargon proposes
To make you consider me smelling of roses
You can take your improvement wherever it comes
And stick your pretensions inside of your bum
You won’t understand and I don’t think you can
That I’m happy with being the way that I am
Self Improvement
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