Old faithful friend,
let me whittle away at my stick.
Sit and tell me
Of your time abroad
and the contours of your dick.
Our time is here,
the sun is fresh
let me hug you for embrace.
What was that?
Why does it stink?
Asks the look upon my face.
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| Come again, Old faithful friend, let me whittle away at my stick. Sit and tell me Of your time abroad and the contours of your dick. Our time is here, the sun is fresh let me hug you for embrace. What was that? Why does it stink? Asks the look upon my face. |
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