I’ve perfected the art of stumbling;
I topple at the highest score,
and in the sport of mouth breathing,
I’ve swept and slipped across the floor.

Call me klutz or call me clod,
clownish, clumsy,vice versa.
My two left feet may be flawed,
but I blame it all on inertia.

One leg longs to see the sun,
and flail into the clouds so white;
earth is home to the other one
(you can imagine all the pesky fights!).

One way this way, this way that way,
contradiction claims my core-
but if inertia jails my jelly limbs,
then what’re you blaming me for?

I’m a connoisseur of floundering,
the fiercest lummox to splat the land;
just crossing the street means drowning
(and all by inertia’s twisted hand!)