If I was Burger King I'd make a better Whopper and call it The Whoppest.
I will love you into oblivion
my little disco Death Star,
in our secret society built for two.
your serial thrills my moth cult kills
you grow into my deep dark places
like mold upon my bones
the gap in the tooth and crook of your nose
my pretty baby full of grace
dripping red drippy drops along the floor.
Screams of the city,
after autumn rains,
fills my heart,
if only for a moment.
She said something about me being a good listener. I don't know, I wasn't paying attention.
My fat ass: *looks at the nutrition label*
"If you adjust calories for inflation, I'm actually under eating."
It is written in the stars above - that we shall never meet,
any more than lovely moon - will ever meet the beach.
To gaze upon her pale shade - mirrored off the sea,
and have her waves break on the shore - for all eternity.
Eagerly I pray for tides - like the thirsty pray for drink,
to hear the music from the foam - and sea's tranquility.
I feel her pulling on my heart - with all her gravity,
a gentle language that she sends - spoken just for me.
Yet it's written in the stars above - that we shall never meet,
but when I feel her moonlit glow - I'll wait here happily.
Do you ever think that if a dog sees a seal sunbathing on the rocky shore he would think, "Holy shit! A mermaid!"?
My ice cream is always exactly 15% ice creamier after I see her.
Her science holds up.
Sugar, Spice, n Everything Nice.
That's what girls are made of.