Who knows what she thinks?
With a carryon in the bong,
We can all feel a fawn,
An Elf or even a lawn
Choreographing the Kong...
Won-toning the Chong...
We can all get along
But with a wrong, we can’t re-write the-
With a face we can’t despite ya
In an Ace there is a heightened –ah?
Like colored lace
It’s a mighty puck
Were it goes is the fight in ya
With the case of the buyers luck
The liers struck
The mired guck
Why must they fire at all of ya?
If I’m inspired, I’d hire ya
Bake a higher ****
Get by or duck
Ha, Ha Ha
Ever seen god tired?
He’d leave ya admired
Don’t forget it’s the Bean stock-
That makes a flock
Don’t forget it’s a shame to spot
With your fingers, fibers or even your hot,
Why with-stand when tomorrow is starin’ at ya?
Its gods hand that is in the pocket lock
Or even reed walk
Hate it in a state of fleeing-
Strumming or heating
Blind or not the eye’s are what’s feaning
Weed offers a bleeding
...Common ground loud at the feeding!
Common common man get down
That frown isn’t appealing…
Get yourself a crowd and put a sheet on the bleeding!