Twas with thine sprightly blunderbuss
We walked the winding road
Wilst winter whipped it's winds around
Snow swirled sweeping round
On Sunday we ate the Jesus wafer
Thine glory is not diminished
But ye that did cleave unto
Mine flesh torpedo
That thou shalt take
Mine flesh torpedo
Whose glory is not diminished
Then you could grab me a beer
And make me dinner.
Her face was thin through vomit
A chemical sheen on her forehead
Caked over a tan booth bronze
Looking at her gave me
a warm scrotal rush that was not unpleasant
And oh to have my stiffened spunk hose
Embraced by the sleek and shiny lips
Lips glossed with
Ultra-lip plumping ingredients
For irresistibly luscious lips
Glazed with unsurpassed shine
Locked around my pole of joy
In a selfless spaghetti suck of love.
Then I'd want that bitch to make me dinner.
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