Friday, April 8, 2011


Hey fun boy
run boy
rapid gun boy
don't act coy
we see through your silly ploys

I'll crush you like a useless tinker toy
don't hide behind those flimsy decoys
I will break you down like the walls of troy

rapid prototype you like dolomite
night after night I hear you cuss and fight
what a disgusting sight
your life is one fucked up sorry plight
you are needed as much as corn needs blight
remove yourself to the ends of the earth
or at least go and live on the island of Wight

You runt, stupid punk
how come you smell like moldy old cunt?
take your ass out of here before I hit you with your vanilla bunt

Maybe all you need is nine grams of lead
in the head
watch as I put the shining chrome to your dome
now I hear you moaning like an old crone
go ahead call your boy Roy
he's the next one I will destroy
he's hiding under that yellow traffic cone.

In the sweltering heat we eat a feast
beneath the aromatic pines
as we wash down a dish of fatted kine with glasses of falerian wine
we write myriads of lines about the art of seeking primes
this is our first recourse in hiding our discourse
from the prying eyes of onetime.

In the meantime..
you and your shady lady,
the one called Stacy who always acts crazy
we ignore your bleats and whines
no matter how much you pine for the old times
you and I both know you are the last of your kind

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