| | Posted on Fri Dec 09, 2005 07:36:43 | |
| | Attend me,
My eleven meter cries.
Wherever you are!
This brazen slut thinks I'm a fool,
And shant return my work.
If you can believe that!
Let us follow and demand their return.
Who is she, you query?
Strutting like a horny peacock,
With a laugh like a barking poodle.
Surround her, and tell her:
"You $#$%ing whore, give me my book!
My book, you $#$%ing whore!"
You don't give a damn?
You piece of shit,
You trollop,
I can't think of anything more rotten than you,
But even that isn't good enough.
At least make her hardened mask
Turn red from embarrasement,
And cry out even more:
"You $#$%ing whore,
Give me my book!
My book, you $#$%ing whore!"
But she won't yield,
Useless.
Time to change tracks,
And kill her with kindness:
"You lovely thing,
Return my book." | |
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