The Throne

Doing mean mischief, they like to watch me shit.
Back and forth to the bathroom, on the toilet I sit.

When this occurs, I don't look and feel so dapper.
Especially when in a hurry, I'm running to the crapper,

Sometimes it happens, when talking on the phone,
Then suddenly I need to hang up, and head to the throne,

To manipulate my body, the functions are fun,
What have they achieved, to feel they have won,

If caught cheating at poker, they would not be listened to,
Just evil in the making, and another witch's brew,

Again my back is sore, and I am only fifty,
This really should not happen, until I'm over sixty,

They are like rats, existing in a sewer,
Interested in smells, the fresh scent of manure,

Seem to be subhuman, that is what they are,
Into secret fetishes, and some things bizarre,

Guilty as sin, It's disguised as humor,
Giving people an excuse, to spread a rumor,

Maybe they have interest, if I squat on a glass table,
Until my back heals, I will not be able.

Possessing my body, the fun will continue to last,
If someone would help to stop it, please stop it fast,

A lie I have this coming, It's nothing I deserve,
To entertain as a purpose, and people to serve,

This has been going on, as decades passing by,
While owning people's minds, with a filthy lie.