Getting married today, what can I say,
I want to shit with joy.
I may also piss, on my wedded miss,
In urine we float our gift toy.
My shit her shit they all fit well,
A match made in heaven's loo.
With lyrics in the air, her skin so fair,
Positively our love is true.
This year is good, people starving for food,
Famine and war glittering bright.
Everything is going to hell, the smell,
Is distinctly of furtive fright.
The stars are stuck, no one to pluck,
They are quite far they tell us.
Astrology was cool, when I was a fool,
But now it's just barnum fuss.
On honeymoon to the moon, very soon,
I fly on my stomach gas.
Farting all the way, foaming shit spray,
I can go where no one has.
