Sing a song of six men,
A pocket full of lies.
Four and twenty readers
Try it on for size.

Number one's a kind man,
Always nice to Sue.
Excepting when she tries
to tell him what to do.

He beats her and she cries out loud.
This happens once a week.
You wish she'd come to realize
She's married to a freak.

Two man is a criminal.
Doing time for drugs.
Says the DA framed him,
Says the cops are thugs.

All he did was smoke a joint.
At least that's what he said.
Actually, he sold cut crack,
and left his son for dead.

Mister Trip's the Prexy.
He can't stay firm or true.
Even has two hemispheres,
So he can change his view.

What's he going to say today?
Will it match tomorrow?
I guess he doesn't really see
The wander of his furrow.

Shi plays the helpless lout.
He seems so slow and vague.
Reality is different:
He's got the lazy plague.

He could make a difference
If he'd only use his brain.
But his mental inactivity
Weighs him down just like a chain.

Cinco seems so confident,
Managing the stenos.
But all he really wants
is a smaller nose.

It occupies him constantly,
A huge honker he can hate.
Insecure, he's comforted.
It resigns him to his fate.

The sixth is Mr. Newscaster.
He seems to have such fire.
But looking deep inside you see
He's tape and bailing wire.

You think you know what he thinks,
You think he seems to care.
But what is really going on
underneath that perfect hair?

The map is not the territory,
The skin is not the bone.
Within us all are multitudes,
But never is it shown.

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