A song about the cold a poem about the snow
o i drank the salted water and o
baby i am gonna have to poop soon.
it's like hungry it's like bored it is like eight days of lemonade it's like some swarthy dark-skinned kinda white making u laugh in NINER emails it is like soviet bloc looking workplace pics of our dear sweetums it is like
billing a guy siddy bux an hour to read a magazine all becuz he is an arrogant priznick who talks with his eyes clizznozed and sighs a lot (alot).
Yeah, bitch. Oops I mean baby. Yeah, baby. This is a love song. I mean poem, bitch. So come on. Put your tiny hand in mine etc. We can ride our love to the moon on down to the laundry room. Close your eyes all chinky and let your breath out, cutie. Ooh let's Fuck on top of those big ole purple panties that some anonymous raggin cooze left down there. I hate how the elastic is kinda loose, don't you? Oh, I know. And plus, You can see where she was bleeding. But who cares right? I mean You can shove them in my throat and I will punch you in your belly like you like and sooner or later we will both come or fake come or whatever.
All becuz it is winter, yeah. And this is my song and my poem and you are in my mouth.