Szan tells you, "Die."
But Why, Szan, Why?
Is it because you hate me?
Or did I upset thee?
Do you want me to run away and cry?

Szan tells you, "Bad Monkey!"
I thought it was quite funky.
Just sitting there,
Without a care,
And you come and interrupt me.

Why is it Szan,
That you dislike who I am?
Is it the tail?
Or do I drink too much Ale!
Or just because you can.

Szan tells you, "Die."
But why, Szan, why?
Would you be my friend?
Or would you rather all sapience end.
I suppose, all I can do is Sigh.

Penned by my hand on the 6th of Chakros, in the year 123 MA.