CHACHI GREW UP SO WHY CAN'T I?
Into another gray reminder,
Find your toilet fantasy again.
Redeem her cream in jet-like precision,
The walls crumble down as you say cheese.
Organ grinding meat with rats and cat,
Hit you in the head with a baseball bat.
Hot potato played on your ass fault bender,
Hey big spender, shallow albatross retained.
Friends are mean to ends of spleen,
I vent my boiling hatred keen
Aware, I stare,
With eyes that steal a glimpse of your mountainous parka.
Chachi grew up so why can't I?
Steve Charles in charge of public pie.
Vodka pimps me up to you,
With its mink furcoat and bilious spew.
Biding time with Jewish boys on crack,
I smack your subterranean IUD baby.
Stranger still with danger kill your urge to ride a pony,
Shallowness and pounding fist protrude from big boney.
Test my leprosy factor, retract your Catholic snide,
A certain gentrification of the brain that comes with aging.
Adoption of ideals artistic,
Man that smells fartistic.
Prospective love it blooms like mold,
So bold to offer up your cold shoulder,
Move to Boulder, New York can't fit your crooked ass.
Rumors of tumors in neverending smoldering fuck,
Breathe in the astronomical destruction of endangered feces.
Burnt orange stomach juice resides
in a paragon of Neat sweet cleats in heat.
Teach me Mrs. Panties, shanty town of lust unreal,
If you feel like Jennifer Beals, fuck you.
Run a marathon in doucheless silence,
Violence will end when you burp up Syd's.
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