The parade is a yearly charade
That most always misses the point
With pitch-corrected country and
Black singers high on floats
Contained
Every Broadway excerpt
Is from a runaway hit
And I’m amazed
That I was unaware
That somewhere more
Than a dozen men have spent
Their last young decade in
The mastery of tap, tap dancing
The commercials seem to assume
That this is a real cancer crowd
And HIV can be made undetectable
With fewer pills, and wow
Spongebob is mentioned
Every four seconds
On social media
I’ve had my cinnamon bread
And a Schnauzer has stolen
My seat yet again so
I’m almost feeling ok
Though turkey
Is out this year
To save my guts and just
Like clockwork
Channel 4 has begun to pixelate