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Solipsistic, Drunk, But Still Friends (Free verse) by horus8

I could have been an astronaut Had my mouth been not so vast As to create that much drag upon re-entry... I opted for sheep shearing instead -- With a case of Dysentery. I could have fucked off a queen, Or perhaps rode a steam boat up the Mississippi, but no, I loved by the handful crooked spent sirens & Drank my way there bare-back-riding. I hate you more than you can imagine Like giant god killing omens fashioned In repetitive executions rationed out to a herd of mouth foaming alien raped cattle Let's do battle as Gilgamesh and Enkidu. Until we realize we are meteor brothers Homosexual lovers, Moby Dick's blubber... Barkeep, may I have another, because My first seems to have abandoned me For that cunt in the corner with a tofu boner. And as I spout Ezra Pound by the howl, and The shorthairs, I see you there shooting another Shot in blank despair reading Friedrich Fucking Nietzsche, and with all the nerve, right beside me? Tonight I think I'll kick your ass by the dumpsters.

horus8 7-Jun-04/5:28 PM
For the battered chicken I've never met. (Lyric) by horus8

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The enflamed battered chicken song
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Why did the chicken cross the road?
'Haps to alleviate its battered load
In the mouth of a horny toad
God, I love the countryside.

Why did the chicken cross the road?
To escape the fry that mocked its sleep
Making its unborn chickadees go "peep-peep"
The sizzle, the crackle. The fear it reaped!
God, how I love the countryside.

Now that the chicken has crossed the road
There will be no applesauce in space
There will be no pork chop mattresses
There will be only war, death, Internet
Suicides, dog leg lefts, and fire on Church St.

God, he made the countryside,
He made the country sigh.
God, he made the chicken song.
He took the Brits from Hong Kong
God, I hate the chicken song.

Now, It's almost time that we put our chickens down.
And SHAKE N BAKE, SHAKE N BAKE, SHAKE N BAKE around.
God, I love the countryside,
God, I love Nick Drake.
God, he made the peasant's rake
God, he made me beat my chicken.
To death again.


Well, 4 out of five aint bad?
Except for the fact that indeed I'm a twat.




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