(no subject)
Opryland
I recall a time when I clung to you \ Like dew clung to the vine. Your white trash ways enraptured me: Your dirtclod tea, distilled from maize; your sister, who had shot her pop; your slop, slung in the twister; oh man, I lusted for your slutty sister. I’m no mister: I am Stanley, man. This tan comes with the farmer’s blister. I work hard, I never stutter: Boy, if you’ve ever heard me mutter \ I’ve stomped your dick into the yard. Oh, Lerelai, you were my Muse! But now you’re gone, and where am I? Sweetpea? J’Accuse! Your bastard pop, who raised those hounds, \ should drown in his own murky booze \ for lettin' Ten Ten eat your face. That mottled bitch defiled the place \ I wished to leave my tender kisses. My wishes - now the desperate kind - are draining with the dirty dishes. Lorelai! Lorelai! My palm upon your missing eye, I swear my justice poetry! I'll manifest our destiny! Get thee to the Nashville Opry!
I recall a time when I clung to you \ Like dew clung to the vine. Your white trash ways enraptured me: Your dirtclod tea, distilled from maize; your sister, who had shot her pop; your slop, slung in the twister; oh man, I lusted for your slutty sister. I’m no mister: I am Stanley, man. This tan comes with the farmer’s blister. I work hard, I never stutter: Boy, if you’ve ever heard me mutter \ I’ve stomped your dick into the yard. Oh, Lerelai, you were my Muse! But now you’re gone, and where am I? Sweetpea? J’Accuse! Your bastard pop, who raised those hounds, \ should drown in his own murky booze \ for lettin' Ten Ten eat your face. That mottled bitch defiled the place \ I wished to leave my tender kisses. My wishes - now the desperate kind - are draining with the dirty dishes. Lorelai! Lorelai! My palm upon your missing eye, I swear my justice poetry! I'll manifest our destiny! Get thee to the Nashville Opry!