Crack Spits

Crack spits

Wannabe knuckle belt whips

Fucking bananas and badodos

And their mittens and

Funny disposition

I want to be like the clan men

Dressed up in crust and shit

With the feces on the wall

Clowns all up in the hall 🤡 

Can’t find my elbows

Walking alone on Main Street

Singing bout fair god go go go shits

Watermelon juice squeezed from my

Perky nipples

Watch the sandy jungle women

Eat their shitty Apple juices

Buzzing wit’ formaldehyde

Bubbling wit’ the Bihar nazis

Watch me inch my way to the

Spoon canister

Skittles and raisins be damned

Clams getting rammed

In their little clam buttholes

With the stick of Jesus

The only stick to ever

Write a very good musical

Christmas Time in the Clamp Dungeon

Flopping around the nanny ring
Wincing at the sweaty clown thing
Nora didn’t realize how expensive it would be
To host her tramp Christmas party in the Clamp Dungeon

Briefly brief, but not too brief
Her pussy wet and warm
Hors d’oeuvres abound, whiskers to be crowned
As all of the little people begin to pound

Ropes tied, nutcrackers sighed
Mistletoes lower, Cynthia starts to blow her
Faster and faster, and into the night
Nora’s pussy, dripping wet and tight

For it was Christmas time in the clamp dungeon
When Nora hosted her tramp luncheon
With Santa Claus a watching
And all the little people flocking

Scarecrow

He ate the sunflower; yes he did
A diamond croissant; yes, yes he did

The flowers bloomed as he looked towards the sun; yes, yes, yes he did
But when the sun fell down and the moon jumped up; yes, yes, yes, yes he did
The moon ate him whole and he never saw the sun again; no, no he didn’t