I have a phantom mouth, it's down south,
It's always making faces at my dick.
Warning in gritting teeth, tongue underneath,
That comes out often like a wick.
By the power of the whore, like before,
I'm disgruntled and frankly disappointed.
Evolving into a freak, don't care for lucky streaks,
I get blood boiling red.
Why are you here, I ask in fear,
And it doesn't say anything at all.
At night I can't sleep, the mouth down deep,
Biting into the ball that's slightly small.
Curse of the holy cow, tasty anyhow,
The reaction indifferent when I tell my foes.
Their label says friends, I know how it ends,
I drift in the adversarial throes.
