And how was life for you before you met that woman shot putter?
Well let me tell you.
My life was no bed of roses.
Oh, I wish my life had been a bed of roses.
Just dodging a few thorns.
No, my life was more like a bed of stinging nettles.
Stinging nettles with flame throwers.
That’s what my life was like.
You know the old saying.
“No rest for the wicked and none for the good people sleeping on a bed of stinging nettles with flame throwers, either.”
That’s what my life was like, thank you Mr. Gatsby.