The Last Time I Saw Paris

by RIP

THE first time I saw Paris
She wasn't wearing underwear
A tarty flirt in a mini skirt
With that vacant, smirky stare

She's kind of vain
A bleached-blonde brain
And skin that's very pale
The last time I saw Paris
She was on her way to jail

Famous just for being famous
Unlike Socrates or Camus
Of her thoughts, we're uninterested
It's front page news when she's arrested

Given a few day's time
To contemplate her crime
She's got it in her mind
She's serving God by serving time

This new millennia sage
So less wiser than her age
Manages to control her rage
Says she feels she's in a cage
With a sink, toilet, and cot
Three square meals, no coke or pot
No booze, or drugs for up her nose
She wears those ghastly orange clothes

Locked away in her small cell
In that California jail
With its own décor and smell
A lumpy bunk with tatty quilt on
It's certainly not the Paris Hilton

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