When I do read the cards that sell like meth, And see the crap men buy in hopes they’ll get laid; When I behold the roses plucked to their death, And wilted droops of petals proudly displayed; When candy aisles I see are stocked with lies, Which come in fancy boxes priced to sell, And single broads in need of comfort supplies Who on romantic nights feel lonely as hell; Then of misfortune do I celebrate, That I’ll not have to care about the day, Since all my love the ex did confiscate And spared me tons of stuff I hate - Hooray! It’s nothing ‘gainst our friend, St. Valentine, But less his holiday we’d be just fine. 1/21/2017