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Drop dead

My brain refuses to remember dates
Birthdays and weddings it hates
Just a male-function, not age-age-age
My brain fights against the stage
When someone opens its gate
To install some sort of cage-cage-cage

My brain lapses now and again
It’s just overloaded, I claim
Maybe misused and not trained-trained-trained
My brain, sometimes fast and long-ranged
But losing details it contained
Still has plenty to be gained-gained-gained

My brain, a little strange but alive
Secretly I consider it bright
But not so my future wife-wife-wife
My brain, it certainly entertains
All those memories it contains
A mix of weird and sane-sane-sane

Drop dead
I don’t want you looking in my head
I want to keep my secrets instead
Drop dead! Drop dead!