Even my flip flops won't flop anymore. Since I sold my poet-y bone. To the man with the electrolysised scrotum This poem is in DENIAL, ewe sumpin hardcore. How dare you snore? as I lecture a livid ghost whore Then drown Natalies' Wood some more. I use to chicky wah wicky, but now I'm all sticky A lollipop to licky Like a Frigian micky All Major chords turned folklore Just to be sooo Sumpin' hardcore I dance I fold I pray So cold Don't say I'm too old In denial and bold- -Ly going Where no man has gone before tripping Charlies' Red Social flare just daring for sumpin' sooo fucking hardcore. Or maybe just maybe Sweet baby We can both Do softcore Just to explore The clothes off I tore, to get to Sumpin, aye, kind of hardcore. Then again, if I shake this magic eight ball with your whole pig mouth to apple I'll save you a sample And make it quite ample If your toes curl then crample? Have no fear It's the nature of denial When my stroked ego stands trial and denys it can ramble off sumpin hardcore. I'll blame you and the jew Bacon's last shrew the sky, since it's blue And NFG too. Inspector plums mushy shoe All I knew I must do Even in lew of those that smell dew Not having a clue They were humpin & pumpin' sumpin hardcore. With a sock on my cock as a jock from the flock not a rockin' roll smock representing Sumpin hardcore But poor I mean pour Me a glass of straight up denial Because I have no floor This freakin' hardcore I put the skillet In Skilletor Hows that for hardcore? I even Jackassed Eeore. Imagine the gore Now I must implore And deny I was ever, your pumpkin For sumpin hardcore. The raincoat has left for the Summer. In denial about why it should shed water. Please forgive it. It's yellow, and plainly loves... Itself.