Basura Cat came back from the store
With a 12 back of beer, ready to pour
She said she had once tried smoking pot
But lost her dealer, because they had fought.
She popped the beer top, and then drank some
Which impressed me because she has not thumbs
She burped and belched, and drank some more
Then her stress and anxiety, she did start to ignore.
She forgot and forgave the days gone by
She even talked to a Swiss speaking fly
She talked of dreams and wayward schemes
She wanted to try expensive face-lifting creams.
She made long distance calls in the dead of night
Saying everybody was wrong, only she was right
I wonder if there is something that I should say
And if there are meetings for cats in AA?