The art of poetry
Actually just somebody
Who used their orbs to ponder another
Who put the doom in mood
Who recognised the moon
And struck by a familiarity, pointed a finger and said
Oh my god, that's so me (OMG, that's so me)
Oh my god, that's so me (OMG, that's so me)
Oh my god, that's so me (OMG, that's so me)
Oh my god, that's so me (OMG, that's so me)
Oh my god, that's so me (OMG, that's so me)
Oh my god, that's so me (OMG, that's so me)
Oh my god, that's so me (OMG, that's so me)
Oh my god, that's so me (OMG, that's so me)
Oh my god, that's so me (oh my god, that's so me)
Oh my god, that's so me (oh my god, that's so me)
Oh my god, that's so me (oh my god, that's so me)
Oh my god, that's so me (oh my god, that's so me)
Oh my god, that's so me (oh my god, that's so me)
Oh my god, that's so me (oh my god, that's so me)
Oh my god, that's so me (oh my god, that's so me)
Oh my god, that's so me
Who's got a pen?