He ran and ran, none could stop him A jogging prodigy, a man With with a lung span so great it's Said that he could race from the Sickle moon and back and still keep face He runs because the world runs at a Measureless pace- It really quite stuns Me to think about how fast he might run If the world would collapse and the Universe would disperse I talk of the man who jogs As if he is some sort of diety That he lives and dies by the draw of the breath But truly the only thing godlike is His devotion to fleeing his past He was a normal boy who grew to Be a normal man But normal things did not Happen to this normal man He had a friend who I shall call The man who collects stamps For he was undoubtably A person who collected postage And also a man The man who collects stamps lived on The street that collects leaves and The two men would go to each other's houses And talk and drink and dance For without a doubt the two of them Kissed like they did in France Both- the two- had wives That trampled in on their lives They wanted to live a Matchbox romance But their partners Cut them with knives They would sneak out at night To catch the movies when Their wives had to clean the dishes But before they knew it and Against their best wishes they Knew that their partners must Sleep with the fishes It was the wretched idea Of the man who collects postage That the sky was a storm and Perfection was in sight A world where hiding and Biding your time would Not be the norm The man who jogs went Along with the plan But not without trepidation For what was a man without his dear wife But A man without a maid So he grabbed for the knife that the Wife was chopping with And shoved it down 14 inches into her windpipe A real bloody mess the Whole ordeal was All for an open relationship An intensive cleaning job The man who collects stamps Continued chopping the onion With the same bloody knife That skewered the cook A wonderful dinner he Made for them all Corpse and two lovers Though his curfew was nine For he still had a woman The love of his life So he made suit An returned home to the Woman of the house She was making breakfast for dinner He figured he'd help He bashed her head into the pan Making a nice nutritous breakfast Love pancakes