MY MUSIC
at work
| These are the notions of a Swiss writer. You see, the devil was in peril, so he called upon Hoboken for the Tolkein-reading homos and hobos, some of whom were kids paying to see Peter Criss play for Kiss. |
Lyrics:
So I was eating a dill pickle one day, when a cat comes up to me and says, "That looks like a green piece of shit." Then I said, "Yeah.. you know, if you saw yourself from the inside, you'd see that you're just a furry piece of shit," a piece that was just large enough to attract some flies and ants that would feed off the bits of undigested dill pickle that I rammed down its fucking cock-sucking throat and said "Ah! How's that for a green piece of shit, fucky!!" after it told me it looked like a green piece of shit. Then I'd come around the corner and see a piece of shit with bits of dill pickles in it, and I'd say "Duh, gee... that looks like (and probably tastes like) a brown dill pickle." Stupid cat.
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