There's a sort of self control
That ought to be avoided
How it goes few there knows
- All our efforts then are voided!
So hear a moment about this thing
And think about that strictness
Where men refrain from doing well
Such confusion all of this is!
"I need to sleep in now" says one
Or he that only works well past 2
But neither's strict policy
Involves a prayer or two;
"As much as it hurts I have to go"
Says the one-night stand
What happened to the sleeping in -
Bright and early across the land!
And like the man who trudges past
The altar to the pot of coffee
The church is near but the roads are slick
(Drive to the bar so caref'ly!)
Careful arrangements there are made
By the avaricious accountant
Years of counting hours and hours
A mistake might make him decent!
That idol of slippery success
For which a thousand trophies stood
Hard earned and dusted across the walls
A fall could do them good!
Let me say of the man
Who won't partake of meat
His self-control may make him 'whole'
But his pride's a crow to eat!
Running, walking, pumping lead
Scrubbing outsides as they said
The tombs are white for all to see
But all the bones are dead!
What sort of mad ascetic feats
Do ordinary men perform
Just to keep from doing right
And to uphold the norm?
A failure of this well worn rule
Could only benefit us
To slack off a bit then I'd say!
(Who'd dare to recommend this!)
So about this self control
It ought be observed
Skill can be applied to fail
And mediocrity be served!