A Memo Of My Faults

Penny for your thoughts on an apple a day
Will it really keep the doctor away?

For nary a needle nor spool of thread
To sew certain thoughts inside your head

A tisket, a tasket they think you're a basketcase
Probably a reject from outerspace.

There's no way in hell to blow your own horn
Too full of spite and spittle and scorn

Always looking in the mouth of a gift horse
No wonder your disappointment is such a great force

What you get for counting your chickens before they hatch
Is a final tally that doesn't match