So a neutron goes into a bar and asks, “How much for a beer?” The bartender says, “For you, no charge.”
If your boss tells you to have a nice day, does that mean you can go home?
Looking for a bitter and sweet drink? Try some Reali-tea.
Listen, singing in the shower is fun until you get soap in your mouth, then it becomes a soap opera.
You know what, I was going to tell you a time-traveling joke, but you didn’t like it.
Can’t say something nice, you shouldn’t say anything at all?
Realize this is the biggest lie you have been fed all your life.
As if your opinion should be mitigated by some sort of empathy filter.
So you shouldn’t call out the stupidity slapping you in the face?
Shut up and sit down on that iron pole over there if you disagree.
Flowers were nice and all
Letting you show that you care
Oh, but that is so trite and common
Unusual gifts will demonstrate you care that much more
Really you should give her a loaf of freshly baked homemade bread
Raising expectations to an unsustainable level
As the crowd goes wild, flying over the gap between fiction and reality
Making the question of how they would land a scary topic
Pitching sideways on the landing, the public crashed and burned, and that’s why we can’t have nice things
How many times can you do the same thing
And do you get the wanted dopamine hit for each?
Bet it is a series of diminishing returns
It should make you want to do it even less
That would be nice, but no, you crave want more
So you do it again, well, because…
Reaching down for a nice hefty stone
Old cloud gray in color, it was smooth and rounded
Caressing it fondly, he rejoined the mob
Knowing he was without sin, he threw first
Stuck with an itch to do something
Cathy decided to set out on an adventure
Really it was just a trip to the casino
And she only brought fifty bucks
That made it even more interesting to her
Could be she was wasting her time
Hour later she was three hundred to the good, and that made some nice…
Wearing the itchy stuff seemed such a hassle
Of course, when it was cold outside it was nice and warm
On the account of rain, socks made of it were bliss
Looks like being itchy was the price to pay for happiness
Can’t make anything out of nothing
Really that’s a crock of bull
Everyone knows storytellers weave lies into whole cloth
And wrap you up inside nice and snug
That’s the stuff godhood is made of
Even if the magic eventually fades into memory
Pushing the paperwork across his desk
Larry knew he wasn’t the most exciting man
As a matter of fact, he preferred that he was so stable
It made his life nice and predictable
Now if he could just convince himself of that