Thursday, September 30, 2010

Laxatives lack effect.

I want to disembowel myself. Spell check nation, cross bred hate we get fed to perpertrate, stand firm or stand corrected, every time you fed me a line, hook, it sunk, stunk and got disinfected, it ain't sicker than me, more fluent, congruent, and as angry as me, I could set myself free and let myself go, like I was the warden locking myself up for show, so all you donkey looking ponies need to neck the fuck up, cos it's tough on these streets and mate, you dead wrong 'bout luck.
Cos if it's your lucky day punk, you'll be walking away with ya wallet, but not after ya girlfriends guzzed it down like an alcoholic, frolic, piss in the breeze, wave ya dick around so it hits both knees, and please, can I get an encore already, your shit, it stinks, the smell lingers, we be Freddy Kruger, while you be Freddy getting Fingered.

No comments:

Post a Comment