I don’t feel happy,
I don’t feel sad,
I don’t very often feel mad,
In a way I’m glad.
I don’t know what for,
I may have a friend or two or more,
I wonder what they say behind my back,
There’s something about them that they lack.
I don’t know who I am,
I don’t even give a dam,
I’ve got a mind like a kid,
And a body shaped like a pig.
I look in a mirror and see a cow,
I know it’s nice, but I don’t know how,
I’m going to die, before I’m forty-five,
And I don’t give a dam as long as I die
Goodbye.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem