Sick sick sick. The nausea is really annoying, but perversely inspiring. Now let me tell a story 'bout a man named Don He puked out his breakfast in his next-door neighbor's john Lunch went straight into the coffee shop commode And on the dinner table are the chunks he blowed. (blew, that is. I do so hate grammar.) Late one night Don had a midnight snack 'Tweren't more than half a minute 'fore it came right back Don opened up the window and looked out at the lawn And fertilized the grass with a technicolor yawn. (Vomit, that is. Toilet tea.) Now one of Don's friends he says "Gosh, that's odd. Near every night he's worshipping the porcelain god. I don't much biology but what I do is such That I don't know how anyone can ralph that much."