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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.