no exceptance, no expectance.
Accept it.
April rains bring May grass
The bloomers are flowing
lowering
blowing
We're gonna go bowling
eat banana splits
listen to a record
We're gonna fucking bowl
We're gonna get there soon, son
we're gonna burn it down
Douse it - that's it boy. More fire. Gasoline.
"Arson" is a gerund.
Burn the bowling alley til it's gone.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment