Pleasure by William Wallace

What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as she allows.

No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide deez nuts in grass.

No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, get high at night.

No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And watch her gangly feet like once.

No time to wait till her mouth can
Fit round that wide hog, whatup fam.

A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.