This drop is pure, I'm sure,
Fresh and warm human piss.
My Coca-Cola, my dearest Lola,
I quench my thirst like this.
It's got all I need, a few days feed,
The acidity is just made for my tongue.
The sugar and cream, what a lovely dream,
The vessel is hairy and well hung.
I must not tarry, after me is Larry,
He's the fattest worm in this underwear.
The smell is sweet, I scurry on my feet,
Go back to my pubic hair.
Here I work on a festering wart,
The pus keeps me cool.
The vessel stirs, a scratch and scar,
I begin to drool.
The gods on cloud, their voices loud,
Make him stir in sleep.
The wart becomes a painful boil,
With joy into it I leap.
A splash and thud, a flood of blood,
Heavens blow a trumpet beat.
Deep into the brain I go.
And here I take a seat.
Now in the chair, it's life unfair,
I wreck what I fucking see.
Insane its twerks, spasmodic jerks,
I giggle a nefarious glee.
After about an hour, I devour,
All there's to eat.
The vessel is dead, through its head,
I come out, the cycle repeats.
