When aliens come to take us away, my toes will worry what happens that day. Will they pull at us? Will they poke us with forks? Will they boil us with potatoes and a side of pork?
When aliens come to boil up my toes, my shoulder blade will worry more stronger than those. Will they move me in circles? Will they split me in two? Will they cover me in caramel and call me Da-doo?
When aliens come to caramel Da-doo, my finacee won’t worry what happens to you. Will they conk her small noggin? Will they tickle her pits? Will they stick her in the freezer and serve her to kids?
When aliens come to freeze my fiancée, I hope they are quicker than prayer time on Thursday.
But I like her well warmer and eager to play, but frozen and eaten, I’ll take her that way.
No comments:
Post a Comment