Right, musn't dayy, got a bucket of soapy frogs to runnegig.
Hey, are you living with those llamas yet? not llamos.
Here's an poems for your CACASACASCAS section.
Here's what she said:
I know that he's dead
But we can make some profit
Before they put him in his coffin
She said to me:
I'll let you see him for free
Just please don't touch the body
Because it may have started rotting
She tells the kids:
Just open up the lid
And then with a mighty creak
You'll see how he looks this week
She may be mad
But for now at least she's glad
She's got treasure to be plundered
Before they put him six feet under.
Hey hey mama
You look like a llama
That's double-l ama
Spanish for love.
He keeps his dreams in a box by the mantle
takes them out some nights after work
You'll see him staring out into the distance
then coming back to the present with a jerk
His convalescence is a symptom of stagnation
and the longer he seeps the sicker he'll get
He's got a trenchcoat in the back of his trenchcoat closet
but he's afraid to put it on lest he find it doesn't fit.
Jesus saves his Camel Cash
And keeps a close watch on his stash
He's got a pile that's damned colossal
He's gonna buy a Camel apostle
They'll sit and smoke the whole day through
And then they'll knock back one or two
Have a beer, it's on the altar
They've got pretzels and pillars of salt there
Yeah, just kick back with your pal Jesus
He ain't got no venereal diseases.