The Pathologist A pathologist is a doctor who works in a lab and spends his time looking at bits and pieces that have been chopped out during surgery, and examining blood samples, swabs, and other unmentionable things. Pity the poor pathologist Who lurks inside a lab, Emerging thence at intervals, Like some strange hermit crab. He is a shy retiring soul, Eccentric in his habits. His chief associates and friends Are guinea-pigs and rabbits. His daily round, his common talk, Is growing germs on seaweed, Or wandering round the wards to ask If Mr Bloggs has peed. You might suspect as you collect That early morning specimen That all pathologists must be Particularly messy men. But though their habits may appear To verge on the obscene In private life, pathologists Are often fairly clean.

Superman Superman is getting much too close and there's nothing I can do about it He is as subtle as an elephant in heat and stops for nothing He turns everything to rubble while bounding in giant leaps along the yellow brick road I dare not speak my fear because I know I've been here before Chocolates and flowers are unnecessary inventions when you are a Superman.

An Olympic Medalist   An olympic medalist is hard to love, He is well trained. He sees himself reflected in my eyes and enjoys the view. He plays to win. Yet as I wait at the finishing line I can not ask for mercy For there is no barter. Health and happiness can not be exchanged by giving up control.

Did you arrive here through the back door?
If you can't see my mag menu on the right
you need to come in through the main entrance!