I'm training hard to be a sloth
I slouch about all day
when I see others running round
I want to hit the hay
life's a dirty business
but my bed is antiseptic
I'm not going to soil my hands with work
I'm a certified narcoleptic
yes I'm a listless sleepy-head
I try not to be alert
I'm indolent & sluggish
sometimes totally inert
I'll eat the bread of idleness
swill opiates & wine
I get uptight upright
I'd rather be supine
I get my kicks from catnaps
& having forty winks
& summertime siestas
& soporific drinks
their long warm hibernation
I'd love to snooze thru winter snows
so give me strong sedation
let me pop those knockout drops
or some nice narcotic
OK so I'm a lazy sod
but at least I'm not neurotic
I need a bit of shut-eye
to take it easy for a while
rushing out & doing things
is simply not my style
in the lap of Morpheus
is where I want to be
lotus-eating in the land of Nod
O that's the life for me
I keep a dozy Dormouse
it's a placid sort of pet
it doesn't bark it doesn't miaow
it snores like a saxcornet
I don't need to count any sheep
I have difficulty waking up
from my deep & dreamless sleep
they say that Sloth is a deadly sin
yet it's only one out of seven
& I'm too damned tired for the other six
so I might still get to heaven
I'm just naturally relaxed
there's little that can rouse me
out of peaceful slumber
I fall asleep in armchairs
I crash out in the bath
I even nod off while having sex
if I weren't so knackered I'd laugh
I look charming in pyjamas
but I could use some Beauty Sleep
I'm such an ugly brute
my hero's Rip Van Winkle
he slept & slept & slept
when he woke & saw how much had changed
I think he must have wept
my days pass like a hazy dream
I live in a twilight world
the happiest time I ever had
was as a foetus curled
curled up in my mother's womb
there it was always night
birth was a rude awakening
I got a bloody fright
I would try hypnosis
given half a chance
why be fully conscious
when you can live in a trance
I laze in lovely languor
blissful lethargy
soon I'll be numb all over
& my legs will atrophy
I attempt to open my mouth to speak
but all I can do is yawn
I've been semi-comatose
since the day that I was born
I'm dying for Eternal Sleep
in that Dormitory-in-the-sky
I'm sinking into somnolence
please sing a lullaby
with feathers from an angel's wing
pillowing my head
turns my eyelids into lead
I can't help feeling drowsy
I'll have to close my eyes
I've been awake an hour now
it's time to go bye-byes
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
"Jesus, in his sermon on the Mount, preached idleness: 'Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they toil not, neither do they spin: and yet I say unto you that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.' Jehovah the bearded and angry god, gave his worshippers the supreme example of ideal laziness; after six days of work, he rests for all eternity."
(Paul Lafargue: the Right to Laziness)
