I'm back from a brutal triple-celestial attack
With my insanity, dentures, left testicle intact.
Wobbly winos backpedal 'round my kitchen utensils
Shining a doctor's 'scope in my mouth, awww, at my tonsils.
I ply myself with hooch from the floorboards of a Chevy
While June Taylor dancers synchronize kicks, they're a bevy
Of sliver-inducers. I’d sprint for my institution tray,
But I'm still in the barnyard needing a lay, O-de-lay!
Shave my pits; sell the clotted hairs on E-Bay; smoke my stick.
I know a floozy tart, woozy with grief, who'll turn a trick.
Please turn to Genesis chapter one hundred fourteen
While I lower my trousers, pour a pitcher of Jim Beam.
I've cavity-searched the flock for my missing Love, by Jove!
She's with another, mouldering words moistening her cove.
Harem in my mind, pressed weeds in my crib, quaaludes.
Fish I mail just block my penis and pretend to act rude.
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