Darling darling please stand on me.

Filter faced,
cock-shocked,
smoking gun in the fat sock.

Can't happy the days, says the lady from the backseat.
I can't call a dog in heat for the fuzz on my peach doth speak too lightly.
gambol in the hay town, motown blisters.

"The woolly Ibex? aye in the rocks wonday we zaw 'im.

posted on a sheaf, ready to go lightly upon the call of need.
Breathing fists of fire,
he vaulted. More power to your cousins.
Done with the day, tired of the night,
sans sands desert storm.
A surgical operator of the infinite justice variety.
Such is your goat-mother!"
Pilferer of rabbis.