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I know that I should be more wary,
but I wish for something scary
perhaps a cooch that’s far too hairy,
or to think that I’ll remarry
I’d wake up in a mortuary,
call Muhammad a “Faggot fairy,”
jack-off singing “Bloody Mary”
“Do I look fat?” “Oh yes, very”
I’ll sing a tune from Katy Perry,
then shit-talk on open carry
please use me as your canary,
but I’m alive, so don’t you bury
still a curse, but quite contrary,
trust me with your last hail mary
sign me up as an actuary,
I’ll lead myself right to the prairie
a suit and tie, a boss named Jerry?
I’d rather die of dysentery
with an untouched, virgin cherry.