Hog, bog and fog

Throw it all away

Lying in fetal position

Somebody's missing

Honed, phoned and loaned

There's a knock right on your door

But no-one needs to know

Shelved like the whore

Jog, log and clog

Do it all for them

Today I will walk that mile

Scrambled in a pile

Cloned, droned and croned

Give a life for a knife

And it seemed an unlikely tale

But wear a pair of spectacles...

Come with us and we will try to make your single-life

A little morbid and enduring