I was sitting on the fence outside your house
Wishing I could line my sight up on your spouse
But then I saw him holding your baby girl
And that's when I began to hurl
Because I knew that it was really my little grub worm
Because I had impregnated you with my man-sperm
And then I ran away to Mexico for six years
But every night I thought of drinking your tears
Because hookers' tears are far too cold
And dead hookers' tears are far too old
And I want you, more than anyone else, to know
That I thought of you, every time I smacked a ho














Comments
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... it happens.
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I am but a few left who live by the sword. Of course, it wasn't until AFTER I committed that I learned that those who Live by the Sword often get shot by those who don't.
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An absolute blend of shadow and justice.
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