Strangled bloody lung fucking-Swinging global hits from a toasted sick bag and years. just angry from eating all the puff paints in the rain. thousand hits at number one blew out by a trail of dandelions in a foggy boat ride. Simple stagnant mentally cripple fucks eating cum from the shit tasty frosty mug slides lining the highways covered in popsensitive umbrella toppings and tables made from luncheon meat and hazy afterbirth smiles painted in a rainbow fasion so all the robotic feti know where to go spend their first paychecks or that of the breeding asshole that shat them into tomorrow and forgot to flush. Goo stained piles of goo thrusting into evil canyons, then covered in cement not intended for travel. spacy waves hover in the swamp lands that ooze very berry extra fruity stool samples into soft serve cellular ball throwing machines similar to the tennis ones, but douche operated.

Baby chicken legs shoved or injected in the cavities of polar bears fried on sticks, hung in sweaters for heated billboards. Gasoline soaked anal trophs scoop into the souls and emotions of the green and brown shirted banner ads, disintegrating them like invisible cups or mugs. they suck down rapids of what they know to like in exchange for actually knowing and cry bald plastic tears that could make beaded necklaces for Africa or smile in paper sacks for a little while. No one brings their lunch anymore. Very few bring snacks. So how do we know about the other meats and colors. How do we know what we aren’t trying isn’t the best? How do we know that more of them won’t make less of it better over time? Shit is shit. Eat it up, fucking fucks.