We should all kill ourselves; we still look at
You. No matter how high we fly, we like to worship
You, and kiss your shiny black boots that stomp
Back and forth in the hall, does it make you hard?
Next time I pop a zit, I’m sure you’ll be
Around; let me borrow the tissue in
Your pocket. You’re a Sweetheart of the Graves.
Kanga Roo sent a postcard from Auschwitz.
Hey fam! The Princess lies down this dark stair, Past the entrance to Underground Parking, Goldilocks herself wants it bad, so bad...
https://asm.makemusic.com/index.html?bundle=https://library.makemusic.com/practice/public/bundles/1288564-802632a2ed3bc8cb186c453e8d28c23...
Hang in the sky, hang in the sky! While your pale lids tremble and I, Your Executioner, will light A cigar not knowing the brand. I...
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