Ian van Dahl -- Castles in the Sky
Let me booze, you loose, let me buzz the game;
just snooze. Heads you're it, tails thy fates end.
Get your wits together and pound Witch fame;
for Sandman was not having It, nor problems blame.
It dost take an Estonian, to be missing pretend;
discovering in court of High Spirits gloss brand.
Translation, lactating the last ditch effort of a lame.
A duckling swansonged pretty please snitched hitches;
hiking on umbridged words, wordsmiths glitch. I abridge.
Do not apologize, fine Thank You, for the suplied stiches,
on the wazzup dredge. I edge on the "Lord Lord!" smudge.
Why dost you say Yahveh, are you a wizard or a bitch?
Hairy jokes to offend the court-Jesters off their rocker-lich.
The lord, who is allmighty in haughty minds, didn't Wick!
Blue Balls there offended, thus he shot the sheriff, to judge:
"There is too much crime on the streets, lets get rid of smokes;
the gun and bullets. The train of thought also sus, please budge!"
People there aghast, why did you shot..? "How dare you! Ridge!"
Pocketing the picked up lines from some philosophers coke
dream, to blame on Bileam and defamed Zarathustra on the joke.
The yoke was having a New-Broker story, to hustle awoke much.
Pulling some dicks and splicing hairs, the fusion was generating
unique Pokemon; Bakugan and New-Trons. They seemed old
enough, to be playing harp in the chamber of commerse. A berating
harpy was eating my lunch, stating: "One for the Patriarhy fading;
two for the Maternal leave." How dost yours give, then Gold
is faded to led, and none can be gentleman but deadmen trolled?
Conning the freethrall, to be gull, the libel believed its fair trading.
Loosers, gullible, you should think thin, while fat in pride, I surmise;
how does one hide the pencil on the table, without a Joker banging
heads? It must be the devils tunes, what got me the blues. Sunrise
must amend the darkness, then the night is sent yonder, thus treatise!
Lets swamp the terms and conditions, until the individual left hanging
on the evil tree, is but a white dwarf cursing: "there be dragons!" gambling
on the White Russian, then the dealer was out of coffee. Tea springs surprise!
I had some lollies and popped a cherry. The Karen was not amused: "Do you mind!"
Didn't she know, I never do, while I piss with the door open. Huckleberry on merry
silent meanings, as the meany bully beans your doomed gloomy demeaning behind.
"That is immature, to eat that candy! Not to mention the gum, why did you grind
it under the counter?!" Sorry, no need to call numbers, my starsighs are very
serious Taurean, mixed with doggy playful splendour. I think she missed that ferry,
cause last thing, I can remember, was her strangling me to Heavensgate -- so kind!
Blowing the whistle, and just having my time, some have to squaredance around;
acclaiming, this space was closed for safety reasons. I guess the mockingbird Will
shit your grill, while the handicap-parking Dodge Viper GTS coupe, cringed aloud.
Then the cats can smile to the emperor and singingbirds tweet, why can't proud
Whiteraven, not croak like a leper and depeche mode your French kisses, so chill!
Gothic moods in an Emo setting, to detune the nightcore in gnostic-punkrock thrill;
the kills of Heavy Metalled depression, while silver lining on the bayonette gourd.
The cuts of a profane director, who conducted medicine in the custodian room.
Where is the broom, and there there Witch! Werewolves went UWU on glance.
Still the hoarcrux of the raddish I spiced up my life, hurt for being One doom
to rue them all, one stomache ache to bind them. One tough shit to groom
the Johnns and make the deadline grind Lem. The Medicine Man, who entranced
majored on the Holy Supper, eating too much while drinking too little, fat chance:
The snowballs and -flakes in Hell had to accuse the devil of luxophobia heirloom.
The Primordial Sin didn't help out, for there was plenty to seethe through the ire;
the Fires of despair and desire: "Why dost you have, I not!" while sitting idle.
The devils toolbox had to boomstick around, to find out how many fucks can hire
a devils advocate and give immense pleasure while not causing any grief, Sire!:
"Would you write a contract, there I sell out, but don't retrieve responcible kinder
from the ancient times, but castles in the sky, just dont Why my OMG cries hinder!
The Shire must go on, as the holy fire has been snuffed out, on film and cameo dire..."
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