Pity the poor man,
weeping in his scotch and rye,
for he is alone.
He drowns his sorrow,
before leaping to the sky;
falling like a stone.
No one mourns the loss,
or even thinks about why.
For he is alone.
Like that stone.
Pity the poor man, weeping in his scotch and rye, for he is alone. He drowns his sorrow, before leaping to the sky; falling like a stone. No one mourns the loss, or even thinks about why. For he is alone. Like that stone. |
|
|
Comments
--
Snowy hell, snowy hell
Icy all the way!
O what fun it is to slide
One's feet in disarray.
Snowy hell, snowy hell
Icy all the way!
O what fun it is to slide
One's feet in disarray. - =Foxbane
--
--
Well, syllables considered, it is difficult to say what I wanted to say without saying it the way in which I did.
Say that ten times, fast.
--
DISCLAIMER: Above statements may be entirely false.
Big boobs are just a distraction from the floor show.
--
DISCLAIMER: Above statements may be entirely false.
Big boobs are just a distraction from the floor show.
--
--
--
DISCLAIMER: Above statements may be entirely false.
Big boobs are just a distraction from the floor show.
--
DISCLAIMER: Above statements may be entirely false.
Big boobs are just a distraction from the floor show.
--
Previous Page12345...Next Page