If mom didn't beat him with a wire hanger,
Then why did the Yinch have such trouble with anger?
It could be his anger, it grew out of fear,
It could be he hadn't worked out in a year.
It could be his fear, it grew out of guilt,
It could be his body was taxed to the hilt
Because he drank only strong coffee and wine
and chainsmoked Marlboros (the non-filtered kind!)
It could be all the Russian authors he read
Dostoevsky, Chekov - all of them, dead!

It could be the art films - man, he'd seen a bunch!
It could be the websites he read during lunch.
It could be an excess of trivial pop knowledge.
It could be the Ritalin he snorted in college!
It could be his long lack of booty, of beddings,
of poontang, of ass (except sometimes at weddings).
It could be the screenplay he once tried to write.
Or that anger (which grew from his shame and his fright).

One thing's for certain, that Yinch just ain't right!

The Yinch, he ain't right. But please, don't forget --
He hadn't had his quadruple latté yet!

Next... No Moos is good Moos.