The Sound of Fucking.

You just...
make me so angry!
You don't even know it, but you hop around like a doofus
making me angry!
You sit in a chair and stare blankly
or go tra-la-la-ing in your little sexual olympic events...
(pole vault... triple jump... synchronized whoring)
and think I want to know allll about them
as you sit there and stare.
What DO you stare at all day?
What does occupy your little mind
other than beer, and getting that gold medal in cocksucking?
Is there anything of substance?
Is there anything that matters in there anymore? Was there EVER?
Or is your head just like the gaping void
between your legs
where visitors come(cum) and go(blow) as they please?
If I shot you in the head
how long would it take you to notice?
With all the insanity stored up in there
there'd be some kind of flash-flood of madness,
but you still wouldn't notice for a couple of hours
because you're always (snicker) lost in thought.
I'll not be tormented, intimidated or shamed by the likes of you
who might as well have wandered in here off the street
and into my life.
If I saw you burning in the street, as they say,
I'd put you out, as they say,
with gasoline. And lots of it.

If you don't want to take yourself seriously
that's one thing.
But if you're not going to take me seriously
you should go fuck yourself up (more)
before *I* do.

I can hear the fucking from here,
don't you think that's a *little* loud?
The sound of fucking as I'm walking down the hall,
the sound of fucking as I sit on the toilet,
the sound of fucking *everywhere*!

Go fuck n' fuck.
Get a disease, won't you please?
Shove it in your ass, you dirty bitch
and leave me the HELL alone.

The sound of fucking as I'm walking down the hall...
keep it up...
and put me in better spirits
by letting me know completely
that I at least have more going for me than you do.

Back

This page hosted by Get your own Free Home Page