IRS

IRS



I went to the I.R.S.
with my shoe box, what a mess

Excuse me, do I need my w-2’s
If you want me to file your taxes you do

Armed with a pocket protector, computer, and a pencil in her hair
She started writing, as if she cares

Of a refund I did dream
All the while, stirring my coffee and cream

Sighing raised her temple’s pulse
My, she said, these deductions are false

Covering her smile and beginning to cough
Prostitutes, you can’t write off

It is entertainment my boss wouldn’t re-imburse
She reaches for Aspirin from her purse

Studying intently my w-4’s
I can’t believe you wanted to write off whores

Subtracting line A from line B
Let’s get this done, I’m late for my tee

So, you want a refund back
With all you owe, you must be on crack

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Karma, you may be gone, but your words will live forever. Love you.

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