Come on in Geno
I'll cook you up some lobster bisque
I wanna smoke you like a fish
You smell like kelp, I think it's hot
I'm gonna stick you in my pot
It's true you are my fish filet
I'll fry you up with some frisée
You are just like my garden trowel
I don't know what to rhyme with trowel
I'll stick you deep down in the dirt
And you can laugh when it hurts
Then you'll flower from your stem
They want to pluck you, I know them
I want to wring you like a sponge
I'll clean my floor with your tongue
You dry the dishes oh so nice
You dirty rag let's do it twice! Three times, four!
And then you'll shine the silverware
You're tired, hungry? i don't care!
And when I'm done with your service,
I'm gonna sell you to the circus
I'll come and visit any week..
You'll make a nice circus freak!
That's what my mother said to me..
She never came to visit
(This is why roses suck)
Submitted by Tina at Tue 26 Oct, 2010 9:59 pm