Artists clays framing nay's.
Join around the internet sponge.
Dont get to close, baby
Or your mother will cum in my face.
Trace me into the ray.
I say, nay again to the war,
The whore, the bore,
Intractable heathcare reform and common selfcare.
Artistically arrange my atoms,
In final chaos for time itself is to abandon.
My own future uncertain -- so what,
I stay on this prison at the wardens pleasure.
It intended me into the flaming yes,
The water of life drunk from the skies of Volcano,
Blue in their leavings and cloudly comings.
Fragrant green nothingness of complexity, roam with care.
I’m a stoner, im a boner im a Homer,
Curtail my ways but then let me randomize her panties.
Sir hungwell does not fancy skanking outside of Kansas.
Ive never been so offended by barroom whores.
I don’t want to keep typing it,
I want to keep saying it.
