I'm wistful on the bed.

I'll rollover and let any Jim Dandy give me head. Head on an umade bed.

And when I splork it up your nose don't complain.

My seminiferous vessels are just doing their job;
making the juice that makes me loose.
My spiral scratch knackers keep the universe secrets
Within.

The third eye that is my pecker.
Just like Lopsing Rampa said;
"gaze you fucker gaze - it is in this hole that it all remains."

Now I'm happy with me pecker flaccid on me belly
and the stars over head.
And now they start throwing the dirt on me;
because I'm, like, dead.
Dead.

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