This is satire, not sarcasm.
To stand out in this day and age
You need something that doesn’t fade
How about an achievement so grand
That your name is known across the land?
No, that sounds like a’lotta work
So how bout a tat instead?
From your stamp of tramps
To your bleeding angels
And the sacred tribal sign
That will end up on your behind
Because nothings says unique
Like a winged fist across the cheek
Or the foreign letters
That don’t mean squat
To the foreign letters
That probably mean “snot”
Or maybe your lover’s name
Just pray that it always stays the same
So if all these sound great to you
Why not try and get a tattoo
And if after, you think it wasn’t clever
Worry not, it’s only there forever
Thank you for listening.