Fucking B by A sad syrupless Waffel

I shoot only to prove.. I've.. Missed.. I still don't get it.. The way I see things.. One way.. Point being I don't get it do I.. By the time I get a clue.. you'll bury you.. Taking my waffle.. practicing forking your toaster.. Things like that.. Get me toasted.. At about the moment.. I pop up and dish.. Ass down Face up.. Etc. and stuff.. Taking your butter..Spreading.. More than your flat fucking pancake? You'll be doing the large intestine polka and I'll be like mike and Tiger and Joan Rivers and bob hope on dope with no rope in the cell carving soap Cum filling the mouth of the pope and thinking to myself "Hey, I'm a waffle, a waffle in a world full of pancakes, but I won't let that get me down. I'll show them. I'll shine my grasp on reality up to a high luster And do the General Custard Right down your fucking throat in slow motion with replays and cheer leaders. Oh, and with the confidence of knowing my great fore-father's killed the buffalo raped women and children strip mined land mined fine dined Nentwined And ruined the last great nation of finks. Where no one can mind their own fucking business No one is safe Privacy, is a brand of renter's insurance And you my friend Are a stuffed animal You are pink a baby mouse like a little girls bow the whore down the streets corvette and a carnation. But don't let that get you down mate Fucking B, I'm just a waffle in a world full of lazy bastards palming cold cereal and just waiting to see What the fuck's for lunch.