I'm feverish and silly, words wily nilly,
A tropical paradise of parasites.
Plus off the topamax, no instigating axe,
All wrong a penitent pen writes.
A farrago of farts, a motley of parts,
Distinct collusion of bacteria and sulphur.
The whiff I sniff, not advised if,
Unless you're alone in a windy car.
Emotional crisis a midlife sepsis,
I ain't kissing any fucking ass.
I just don't like the taste of crusty shit,
Or suck religious cocks with bullshit gas.
Balls hairy and smelly, I see on telly,
Women go for bad boys.
Seamen's semen brand their men,
They like to be their sex toys..
Malarkey and love, fit in a glove,
There's not really love after a while.
Fucking hormones, puffy nipple cones,
Evaporate on contact with bile.
Don't feel upbeat, two faces but no feet,
I'm make in India, a sordid joke.
From mediocrity to flatulent city,
The old fire too dead to be stoked.
