grow up
Get **** together
Never truly happens
Like they say it will
At best you get half
Your **** strate
And the other half
Never gets straightened out
Its a journey down the
Shitter
No way to swim back
Up the **** stream
Categories:
shitter,
Form: Lyric
A misted view of a bedroom cloth is really a cloak having a smoke. A range of fathomable feline feminine is felt and smelt. In a blood arch turning twisting. Take take take. Trapping then. Be nil beer. And be no bee in a bath. No no no. A fragrant wrath exposing experience. And a pinnacle of painted pain pleasing pleasurably. And a sanctimonious tissue skirt and a pint sized foetus embellishing an otherwise jeopardized environment. Beak no beaker. Brake no bomb. Cave it is within curves. Shitter shatter curtains. Blowing. Booming. Should scream school scatter scared shitless Shirley ship. And an interestingly printed power scarf interlocking and bricking for formation of bridges. Walking. Whistling. Walking. Widely. What whale which white winches. How remarkable it is then. An internally adjusted instrument. Strum in tum. Tuning. Turning. How fantastic the news. And how globally positioned is the equilateral equator of a new planet and a ten mile sun. In a minute. Fraction friction friends. Haha historical houses. Hahaha seed stem. Xxxxx vertiginous video xxxxx amplification z
Categories:
shitter, autumn, baby, basketball,
Form: I do not know?