When we’d gone so far down the road that we needed to get our heads examined, to charge a penny to your half-baked notions, we took little heed of our invertebrate forbearers with their unconscionable lack of spine. To put that into a coherent hole.
You get the picture. First off we were lucky to be cells at all. Some say we’re lucky to have any protons and other stuff, the way things could have been. But praise the lord and pass the physics, the next thing you know we’re crawling out of the sea, with no hard feelings.
Raise your glasses to the sponges and the shrimps, and save your tears for the barber of Seville. Tip your hat to the handsome lassies, take a bow to the upper classes, and kiss the ass of the working masses. You have nothing to lose. Saint Peter don’t you call me cause I can’t come, blame it on the weather, or blame it on the rum.