Worms

I was musing on the historical origins of the rod of Asclepius in the shower this morning (as you do) and suffered another one of those attacks where my brain produces something completely awful and then won’t let me rest until I inflict it upon a candid world. So it is with great sorrow, regret and apology that I present the following vicious and unjustified attack upon the musical legacy of the Beach Boys. I am so very sorry…

Worm, worm, guinea worm, I gotta worm!
Guinea worm, worm, worm, I gotta worm!
I gotta worm, worm, guinea worm, I gotta worm!
Gotta worm, worm, guinea worm, I gotta worm!
Messing with my brain! Worm, guinea worm, I gotta worm!
I’m in real bad pain! Worm, guinea worm, I gotta worm!
I’m sick of all the healers with their same old tricks,
I gotta find a new Doc with a twisty stick!
I gotta worm, worm, guinea worm, I gotta worm!
Guinea worm, worm, guinea worm, I gotta worm!
Messing with my brain! Worm, guinea worm, I gotta worm!
I’m in real bad pain! Worm, guinea worm, I gotta worm!

Sorry.

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