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When he puts you on Lipitor
your days will be not numbered,
regardless what you take it for
your heart will be encumbered.
Your joints will ache and fall apart
the memory soon fades,
it does affect the smallest fart
and like those greenish blades
you sway and topple to the ground
in summer morning breeze,
inside your head there is a sound
not coming from disease.
It's Lipitor at work, it kills
cholesterol en masse,
the industry does send you bills
you pay, you stupid ass.
Cholesterol is one of those
ingredients that the gods
placed inside you and me, they chose
the right stuff for our bods.
But man decides that he knows best
and tinkers with the works,
morticians lay the ones to rest
who listened to the jerks.
So if your doctor even hints
that you should go and take it
go buy yourself a bag of mints
but not the pills and fake it.
You want to live to an old age
don't listen to those quacks,
and if you must, fly into rage
repel their cheap attacks.
Cholesterol is what we are
and what we must preserve
without it no one goes too far
he would not have the nerve.
Herbert Nehrlich
Read poems about / on: memory, summer, work
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