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DOPE DESTROYS THAT WHICH HOPE PROTECTS 

Those aren’t really maggots, it ain’t even a flightless fly
That’s just the look of putrid and putrefied flesh when you die
Those aren’t really moles down there, they ain’t even mice
But I’ll tell you, the stench of death comes at quite a price

Every May fourteenth it’s Robbie’ day
December third is reserved  for Bobby’s day
Lucy died at exactly midnight on the fifth or six of May
So was she buried that day or the next, ever heaven to stay

Maggots may squirm and squirm like a worm
But a dead body can only be steady and firm
That’s a directive from the one with intoxicating perfume
But we all know she’s all about death, destruction and doom

Mother earth awaits her kin in kind
Be they ordinary, or f*****g out of their mind
Fridays are for lovely Sherry and how she always rendered mirth
And as of today more than half of my friends occupy the earth  
                © 2011.….free cee!

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