My plan if I ever got my hands on a lamp
Would be to ask last for three more wishes,
The classic cunning ploy of the rascal,
The dumb kid who doesn’t know anything
About love or loyalty or friendship,
Who'd say it with a conspiratorial smirk.
Of course the genie wouldn't dig it
A thousand years locked inside bronze
And some wiseass is gaming the system.
The disappointed disgust on his face would
Dissuade anyone from taking advantage.
Probably just let him go, never see him again.
It’s another one of those gutting lessons of life:
Some people will offer you the world
Or at least everything they have to give
And you’re the blind jackass to the core
Cynically calculating all the angles,
Always holding out for more.