The Golden Fot
Oh heavenly golden thy Fot of Gold
my mind I eye on eye for sloths mold
and Ceaderdale misfits sold and crimson
mess made solid silver slivers of fresh
loathing upon Reds Majestic Folding.
Come back to papa and read me a poopooem!!-
You who brush with Ted in the night.
Thy foot, thy Fot and arse up put,
Summertimes fling- singing, dancing and
Rolling in the muck and tumble, sprouting
fingerdales and mounting mounds of ****.
I will never return to Ceaderdale!
My place is with the cotton pickers and
grace painters munching on sna-cake and
eating it too. Soon you will join me, my love,
and we will never lift a finger together forever.
Oh, Thy Gold Fot- if only for a moment you
Leave my oss!!
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
My skin has been shed- I am now Amortal.
