I rode a horse on a winding path
And saw before me, though I’m bad at math
The path became two roads ahead
One rocky and coarse, a bitch to tread

The safer course, apparent to sight
Was clean-cut and easy, a porridge “just right”
With either path my choice to choose
I took the path less apt to bruise

Yes, I took the road well-traveled
And my seams kept sewn, my sweater stayed raveled
My shoes suffered no pain or remorse
Nor did my steed—just ask my horse

Sure, it was crowded, and baked by the sun
And assholes surrounded by whole metric ton
Paved by cruelty and sadness and greed
And it smelled like someone had been toking weed

Maybe I got there two hours later
And missed the buffet of free steak and taters
But anything’s better than being some jerk
Who brags about taking the path of more work