we held down miles of my own vomit

just to get my rocket in the pocket of every pretty lady in town.

(maybe no one hugged me enough as a child,

or maybe some one did too much)



complain to the scissors, bite the skirt sleeve.

let's see the look on your face when i make it work.

if every woman was a continent, i would be napoleon.

yeah your body's the sea for me to navigate.

i want to be the superb qualities to your three pronged fingertips.

i'll be the ashtray to love's unfiltered cigarettes,

like the k-9 nose to your crotch.

i want to watch you undress through the keyhole.

you make me cum like never before.



blah blah blah blah.