The world was made for a common mind.
The world’s a work of kitsch
That’s for the hoi polloi designed,
Bourgeois, without a stitch.
The world’s a timeworn platitude.
The world’s a trite cliche.
It offers no beatitude
But living day to day.
The world is music in a store.
The world’s the same old song
We’ve heard a million times before,
And still we sing along.
The world’s a week-old birthday cake.
It’s stale, but it’s sweet.
If life’s a dream, don’t let me wake.
The world’s a real treat.