Mongolia. John Wilkes Booth.
Purple Puppy
Posts: 149
I don't know what to do.
I write songs.
I'll pick up your sleuth.
With tight prongs.
Her leg is Buddhism.
She weeps what the room is some.
She sleeps like the moon is rum.
We beg just to feel her some.
She seeks to be immune, I hum.
We don't know what to do.
With our songs.
We please only a coup.
See Mongolia.
I'm rough and a heel to boot.
Like King Kong.
I'm stalking John Wilkes Booth.
It won't be long.
He'll make up for what he's wronged.
The one who's pegged and rude is him.
He seeks to wrench the kindest sum.
What seeps into the wound I strum.
Part of it soon will run.
To the magus, signed and strung.
We don't know how to sue.
Our rights a ton.
We see only a clue.
Of a soldier.
I write songs.
I'll pick up your sleuth.
With tight prongs.
Her leg is Buddhism.
She weeps what the room is some.
She sleeps like the moon is rum.
We beg just to feel her some.
She seeks to be immune, I hum.
We don't know what to do.
With our songs.
We please only a coup.
See Mongolia.
I'm rough and a heel to boot.
Like King Kong.
I'm stalking John Wilkes Booth.
It won't be long.
He'll make up for what he's wronged.
The one who's pegged and rude is him.
He seeks to wrench the kindest sum.
What seeps into the wound I strum.
Part of it soon will run.
To the magus, signed and strung.
We don't know how to sue.
Our rights a ton.
We see only a clue.
Of a soldier.
Signed it, grind it.
Corroding and foreboding.
Corroding and foreboding.
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