[APPLAUSE]
I was born in the Congo.
I walked to the Fertile Crescent and built a Sphinx.
I designed a pyramid so tough, that a star that
only glows every 100 years, falls into the center,
giving divine, perfect light.
I am bad.
I sat on the throne, drinking nectar with Allah.
I got hot and sent an ice age to Europe to cool my thirst.
My oldest daughter is Nefertiti.
The tears from my birth pains created the Nile.
I am a beautiful woman.
I gazed on the forest and burned out the Sahara desert.
With a packet of goat's meat and a change of clothes,
I crossed it in two hours.
I'm a gazelle.
So swift, so swift, you can't catch me.
For a birthday present, when he was three,
I gave my son, Hannibal, an elephant.
He gave me Rome for Mother's Day.
[LAUGHTER]
My strength flows ever on.
My son, Noah, built Newark, and I stood, proudly, at the helm,
as we sailed on a soft summer day.
I turned myself into myself and was Jesus.
Men intone my loving name.
All praises.
I am the one who would save.
I sow diamonds in my backyard.
My bowels deliver uranium.
The filings from my fingernails are semi-precious jewels.
On a trip North, I caught a cold, and blew my nose,
giving oil to the Arab world.
I am so hip, even my errors are correct.
[LAUGHTER]
I sailed West to reach East, and had to round off
the Earth as I went.
The hair from my head thinned, and gold was
laid across three continents.
I am so perfect, so divine, so ethereal, so surreal.
I cannot be comprehended, except by my permission.
I mean, I can fly like a bird in the sky.
[APPLAUSE]