Flim flam doorjamb canned ham Sam I am singing witty jingles and things to bring your wings up, drink up dont hiccup its a big cup whats up and wheres down hair down in her bare gown shes a pronoun and she goes down to the old town for a hoedown when shes brung down with her tongue down and a sprung frown on her young face shoelace for her blue suede food grade toothpaste but shes clueless if not toothless ruthless in a blue dress truth test suit vest boot cleat moot meet bedsheets red meats is what she eats no treats cold cuts rolled oats pine nuts in a wine glass when its half past halfassed offgassed doffs hat falls flat on the doormat with a black cat and an eclair on the top stair but the airs cold and the chairs old though she wears gold truth told brickmold sticks round the doorbell this is whore hell but it foretells that alls well in a ballgown with her shorts down with a porch clown in a black suit strange fruit change route chains on brains out when it rains out and the drains out train sounds bloodhounds fairgrounds staredowns get a raincoat from her stained coat and estrange her from her stage; shes an angel but youre brain dead youre not playin dead theres a pall on your mall and thats all.
Posted on: Sat, 29 Nov 2014 12:49:50 +0000