They say that one’s genetically disposed
To happiness or the opposite. If so
What’s to be done? My very mind opposed
To hope and happiness; my soul my foe.
Let’s get to grips – eschew an unfelt smile
Go with the burden, buckle with the weight
Swig all the bitter brew of fortune’s bile
Walk into darkness hand in hand with fate.
Hold on though! – Here’s that cherub with blue eyes
Who makes my heart rebel against my brain
Who takes a sharp blade to inherent ties
And makes me free for gaiety again
“Blue genes” are mine, okay – for me that means
My love has eyes the colour of blue jeans.