You want a finger of love where it counts? Ever have cheese in your drawers, shit in your hat, or bacon on your lawn? I'll bet you're incapable of swinging your meat away from the master's carpet. I saw a reflection of red death in my cereal and rang my easter typer to create a fabric which would be perfect for the occasion. I'll never forgive you. You are why there are times like the three yesterday when black flames shot out of the preacher's asshole and ate the cherry topping. Be a friend and bury my balls in the sock. No one listened when they were commanded to tape up the face. The face just kept calling for justice in the belly of the white whale. You were out that day. Calculations are made, plans set in motion. When can we go yet? Will you be here on tuesday?
