Ye Olde Filthy Mind - 2011/09/25

You wield the mile long stare
Even as I pretend not to care
Your vacant eyes have no hope
For you are just a wimpy dope
You cried so hard when I said
Find your mom and share a bed

Come one come all to the meet
We have much room grab a seat
Our state has problems indeed
So on our knees we will plead
All who disagree have no heart
I the executioner play my part

There was that man from Butts
Over whom everybody went nuts
Even as there was great doubt
Nobody wished to expend clout
So on the night Georgia willed
His precious blood was spilled

On all the roads I drive slow
As quick as the moped will go
The people show their fingers
Or scream out obscene zingers
I am Dewey I lack a real name
Drive tanked you get the same

No comments:

Post a Comment