There’s many burn the midnight oil
Trying to get better —
There’s many write and write and write
And agonize each letter
There’s many struggle through the day
For love, or for their duty —
And many work for years on years
To get one glimpse
Some men do not care for Fashion;
Of those, he was chief –
To him, it was just time wasted;
Such was his belief —
Then he saw her in the Fashion
That she would prefer —
Now, he loves It with a passion:
He laughed at her
For her oft-changing fashion
That last year’s clothes
Were no good anymore
And thought it an example
Of how shallow she was
And always would be
As for her?
She believed in doing good
And always tried to live it
Appearance was just expression
And as she shed her old ways
She changed how she appeared
She noticed that he
Kept changing ethics –
His so-called core beliefs
Depending on intellectual fashions
You know, I think,
Her type of fashion’s
Better after all
Does value have meaning? Significance, purpose?
Is life just a poorly-run, foul-smelling circus?
Are all of us doomed to be what we appear?
Is there more to life than Doritos and beer?
Is French the one language we’re all meant to speak?
Does no spinach make you an Iron-Poor Sheikh?
Can one really lose weight by singing the blues?
Is there any point having more than ten shoes?
Can anyone tell me why cat memes are funny?
Why doesn’t Vince know Colt & Portia are money?