Condo. Living? Poem by William Webb

I've never really understood why anyone would want to live in a condominium
Except for power freaks who are excited about being on the board and running their own dominion
And folks from abusive families and relationships who are so accustomed to being doormats
That they'll put up with just about any kind of intrusive bullcrap about how they should live in their own flats.

But I'm a man of far too many old, diverse and mostly grumpy parts
To want to live in a concrete beehive with a bunch of demanding self-important old farts
And it's probable that if I did I would prove to be so inflexible
That they would all go out and buy chicken feet and voodoo dolls to see if I was hexable.

So when people ask me why considering the depressed housing market low prices and all that stuff I continue to rent
I tell them it's so if the neighbors can't get along with me I can say to hell with them and go live in a tent
Because once you take out those loans and sign the papers you're no longer in a buyer's market
And your poor old butt is stuck forever in whatever sorry senior citizen's ghetto you finally decided to park it.