I think, I think, About, the Sink, Hole not draining, rebounding, Overflowing, with Grey Sludge, and Black Ink, Deep inside the pipe I wonder, What waste of mine, had led to, This awful blunder, My Food, My Soap, (rendered from a holocaust victim's fat) My Bacon's Grease, Stored in an industrial vat... It clogs, And strains, This Union Plumbing, It Vibrates, and Threatens, Keeps these Lead Pipes Humming But everything that goes down the pipes, Leaves me Without Quarrels and with no Gripes I think about the Sewers Below, and I am grateful, About where, My waste, Doth Flow, Beneath the Pyramid, And Below The Hierarchy, I dwell in the catacombs, With Maslow's Anarchy