The most functional word in English language is.
In the vast English tongue, a word stands tall,
The most functional, useful, above them all—
Shit, that's right, it wears many a face,
Filling our language, taking up space.
You might be shit-faced after a night out,
Or shit out of luck when things go south.
With shit for brains or a mind full of wit,
You still have to get your shit together—bit by bit.
There's smoking shit, buying shit, selling it too,
Losing shit, finding shit, it's all in the view.
Tell someone to eat shit and die in a spat,
Or maybe you're the one who just knows your shit flat.
From lucky shits to dumb shits, they all come to play,
With bull shit, horse shit, even chicken shit today.
You can throw shit, sling shit, or catch it on the fly,
But watch out when the shit hits the fan from the sky.
Give a shit, or serve it—on a shingle, why not?
You might find yourself in deep shit, or maybe not.
Some days are colder, some hotter than shit,
And some days are just plain shitty—it all seems to fit.
Music may sound like shit, or perhaps it’s divine,
Things can look like shit, or they might just shine.
Too much shit, not enough, the right or the wrong,
Sometimes it’s all just weird shit you drag along.
You can carry your shit, climb a mountain so steep,
Or find yourself up shit creek—no paddle to keep.
Sometimes all you touch turns to shit with a groan,
Other times you fall in a bucket and come out like home.
So ponder this truth, as simple as day,
Shit is the essence in every way.
Once you know your shit, life’s mysteries cease,
For in knowing this shit, you find your peace.
The most functional, useful, above them all—
Shit, that's right, it wears many a face,
Filling our language, taking up space.
You might be shit-faced after a night out,
Or shit out of luck when things go south.
With shit for brains or a mind full of wit,
You still have to get your shit together—bit by bit.
There's smoking shit, buying shit, selling it too,
Losing shit, finding shit, it's all in the view.
Tell someone to eat shit and die in a spat,
Or maybe you're the one who just knows your shit flat.
From lucky shits to dumb shits, they all come to play,
With bull shit, horse shit, even chicken shit today.
You can throw shit, sling shit, or catch it on the fly,
But watch out when the shit hits the fan from the sky.
Give a shit, or serve it—on a shingle, why not?
You might find yourself in deep shit, or maybe not.
Some days are colder, some hotter than shit,
And some days are just plain shitty—it all seems to fit.
Music may sound like shit, or perhaps it’s divine,
Things can look like shit, or they might just shine.
Too much shit, not enough, the right or the wrong,
Sometimes it’s all just weird shit you drag along.
You can carry your shit, climb a mountain so steep,
Or find yourself up shit creek—no paddle to keep.
Sometimes all you touch turns to shit with a groan,
Other times you fall in a bucket and come out like home.
So ponder this truth, as simple as day,
Shit is the essence in every way.
Once you know your shit, life’s mysteries cease,
For in knowing this shit, you find your peace.
