Through the door it slithers in,
Accompanied by its peers
Always groveling for attention,
While no one really hears
In its mind it's full of wit
And quite the social king
It plants itself among the rest,
to give its deadly sting
It's just a matter of opinion
Further now there's a man of taste
Of talent and precision
To work and strive at his artform
Has been his life's decision
The stage is set The perfect show
Is put before the mass
Only to be ridiculed
by some slimy, pompous ass
It's just a matter of opinion