GODS MUST BE CRAZY, THE
My heart is beating, it's an eyesore on the ears,
It stems the fears of queers with beers,
And chocolate smears,
Of underwear in mirrors.
February sinks like the Titantic,
Submerged in gray Manhattan,
April is as far as Battery Park from the Cloisters,
The moister you are the more you get licked.
Persecuted bench warmers wait in wait,
Forever cheerleading conquests of the stronger,
Longer and longer, understudies rot,
You're just a Sancho Panza in the end.
The matador lost, but the bull gets shot,
Its balls eaten as some delicacy in Spain.
You thought you beat capitalism,
But you'll get served up in the end with no brain.
Test your testosterone levels in clandestine rituals,
A whale of a sex life in the back rooms of Jenny Craig.
I beg and beseech you to extend your reach,
Breach your contract of no contact with a hairy leg.
Some say Russians speak in oddly disgusting ways,
Yes I am Russian, do you think that it pays?
To bite off Eminem and be full of bile and phlegm,
And use boring misogyny to gain credibility with Them?
Sternly burning with capabilities unknown,
You hope that your C. Everett Coop has not flown.
Out the bathroom window,
Your dream boat sinks the pink on zinc carpets smelling Walt Mink.
Give me back the dignity of bourbon swilling libertarians,
Give me back the bursting sexuality of pent up librarians,
Give back our tonsils, appendix, foreskins and wisdom teeth,
The Gods must be crazy:
Yeah, take
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