Why am I full of static cling, when I wake up each day?
It fills my bed and stuffies. I’ll hire military attaché.
He’ll have to stand up for my rights when I rise in the morn,
And pull that sock off from the spot that it seems to adorn.
When it comes to tame the hair that springs out ’round my head,
I’ll have him use that stuff that makes your hair feel like hard lead.
As I walk about the carpet in my bright red fuzzy socks,
He’d help me get to the point that I could just outfox,
That zap – zap – zapping pattern that happens when I touch,
The walls, my jacket, or my hairbrush that I use so much.
I hope that he would also show me what to do in case
The shocks I get from static make me sport a big wry face.
If only winter would go away and spring give humidity,
I’d be so happy to walk about with no fear of rigidity.
The only other problem with static in my house,
Comes from my baby brother, a real live felis chaus!
I think that I could write a book on things he does each day,
To cause such static in my place, we’re always in disarray.
But that will be in some future time, maybe when we’re static,
As things that change will always come , yes, they’ll be automatic.
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