There's a dinging in the kitchen,
There's a ringing in my head,
Someone's singing in my closet,
But, I fear the tenor's dead.
There's a clatter in my cupboard,
There's a matter unresolved,
There's a tiny pitter patter
Which is screaming up my hall.
There's a titillating teeter—totter
Slamming up and down.
And the bumpiness alone,
Just slid my grin into a frown.
Someone call the proper people,
Shut the silence off and then
Call the plumber, what a bummer,
I am dripping wet again.
All this screaming and complexity.
This damned insipid stain,
Is deplorable, abhor able
And driving me insane.
And the sum of all this madness
Has my tongue and guts in knots.
So you do all the talking...
Because I forgot the plot.