I search for a hole, my soul is foul,
I don't think I'm sorted still.
Yonder I look, a loose bra hook,
I can scale a nipple hill.
Not too high, I've got one weak thigh,
And just one foamy ball.
The other is inside, I hide,
That it's really very small.
Love and lust, every month a must,
Then my dick shrivels into hair.
I can then focus on other jobs,
Penetrative urges I don't care.
When I was sixteen, it was sixteen,
Times I flew my thick sperm.
Now at fifty, it's a fraction and watery,
Once a month, twice a medical charm.
But the trick is this, we need a miss,
So that we can fuck out a little us.
Then that grows up fucks more,
And now the whole planet sucks.
And this I say, with utter dismay,
Most of the fuck products super foul.
Just like me, now there are so many,
Shit fucking stupid assholes.
The god in charge, is a fecal discharge,
Bottled his diarrhea as holy men.
Most pink socks, suck religious cocks,
Bribed by promises of heaven.
Given all this, which sane miss,
Will offer her holes to me?
She can clearly see, toxic and outcast,
I'm a godless shit floating free.
