I WANT TO SCREAM

I WANT TO DIE

I WANT TO BLEED

I WANT TO LIVE

I WANT TO FEEL

AND TO SEE THINGS THAT ARE REAL

SO LET ME GROW

LET ME GO

LET ME CRY

LET ME DIE

LET ME CRY

LET ME DIE

BLEED ME DRY BLEED ME DRY

To those of us who knew him

-his friends-

we called him Roy.

To others he was known

as that horrible Toxic Boy.

He loved ammonia and asbestos,

and lots of cigarette smoke.

What he breathed for air

would make most people choke!

His very favourite toy

was a can of aerosol spray;

he's sit quietly and shake it,

and spray it all day.

He'd stand inside the garage

in  the early-morning frost,

waiting for the car to start

and fill him with exhaust.

The one and only time

I ever saw Toxic Boy cry

was when some sodium chloride got into his eye.

One day for fresh air

they put him out in the garden.

His face went deathly pale

and his body began to harden.

The final gasp of his short life

was sickly with despair

Whoever thought that you could die from breathing fresh air?

As Roy's soul left his body,

we all said a silent prayer.

It drifted up to heaven

and left a hole in the ozone layer.

The Boy with Nails in His Eyes

put up his aluminium tree.

It looked pretty strange

because he really couldn't see.

Mr. and Mrs. Smith had a wonderful life.

They were a normal, happy husband and wife.

One day they got news that made Mr. Smith glad.

Mrs. Smith would be a mom,

which would make him the dad!

But something was wrong with their bundle of joy.

It wasn't human at all,

it was a robot boy!

He wasn't warm and cuddly

and he didn't have skin.

Instead, there was a cold, thin layer of tin.

There were wires and tubes sticking out of his head.

He just lay there and stared,

not living or dead.

The only time he seemed alive at all

was with a long extension cord

plugged into the wall.

Mr. Smith yelled at the doctor,

"What have you done to my boy?

He's not flesh and blood,

he's aluminium alloy!"

The doctor said gently,

"What I'm going to say

will sound pretty wild.

But you're not the father

of this strange-looking child.

You see, there still is some question

about the child's gender,

but we think the father

is a microwave blender."

The Smith's lives were now filled 

with misery and strife.

Mrs. Smith hated her husband,

and he hated his wife.

He never forgave her unholy alliance:

a sexual encounter

with a kitchen appliance.

And Robot Boy

grew to be a young man.

Though he was often mistaken for a garbage can.