Dear self: You got lazy. You got rusty.
Time to step up to the plate
Where is your mother?
On the other taxi. It's parked right outside.
If only wooden spoons were crafted of earth.
Overtop puddings, kahlua and vodka
The three a's in alcohol,
With the "Aaaahh" to wash it down
You've cooked up a spiral
Staircase to oblivion
Put the brakes on reality
This is where I get out.
Thursday, July 05, 2007
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3 comments:
alcohol
Dag nabbit. Stupid my spellin
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