Tomorrow Will Suffice

Tomorrow I will go to the bathroom,
and the toilet with vacuum me in.
I'll be encompassed in a world of flying fish,
and squirrels shaven down to their skin.

I'll find a boat made out of poop
in the middle of a yellow lake.
The giant ants perched at the wheel
will reach their untimely fate.

After sailing for hours
I'll reach a shore,
that's guarded by wizards in drag.
I'll grab my boat,
shuve it down their throats,
causing the poor wizards to gag.

Sneaking past the guards,
I'll fall in a hole,
designed to keep trespassers away.
I'll fall for months,
until I emerge,
in a sunny spring day in May.

From up in a tree I'll a hear a voice,
calling my lifelong name.
I'll see a bird wearing a coat of squirrel fur,
telling me jokes that are lame.

After his jokes he'll realize
that I was there by mistake.
He'll extend his wing to the North,
toward a portal made of purple cake.

I'll jump through the portal,
and then I'll find,
I was sitting on the toilet the entire time.

My legs will tremble while they're nawed off by mice,
but I guess tomorrow will suffice.