(lyrics were all compiled from random social media submissions from friends and followers, spliced together)
An engorged gazebo sports tomatoes on the vine while an excretory shammy hits on a moist strumpet.
Perpendicular calendars reveal frivolous decadence of systematic sass and technicolor delicious
while conjetory hilarity rejects antichrist brothers and their pouting crush on a melon baller brawler.
Summertime Pooh gets down for Halibut pudding. A mind bending commercial for a lovely lactavist makes an appropriate smoothie from a vintage miracle based on a dishonest submission in the arctic upstairs.
A glamorous avatar wearing a Debbie Gibson trucker hat is charting Google invites for a Doctor Who companion, who’s drinking hot Kool-Aid in her time-machine ambulance from Chartreuse Five. We all shout: Abracadabra!
Destiny calls collect from a metropolitan bukkake farm while ninja assassins claim kleptomania on their taxes, eating Luke-warm sandwiches.
Just like downtown, the rain pains the insane, forging a solid gold silver lining.
Merangay cookies smoking sprinkled Christmas news, while discussing mortality’s conduct and falling off the rails.
A sense of elongated independence consumes relations with the legendary vocal stylings of a swimsuit arena technocrat’s sweet ambrosia during a doink.
Amicable arrangements between douchebaggery associates squeaking Honest John’s sausage.
I’ll be dipped. You son of a bitch. Oh, well. What do you do?
Fiddlefuck a triquiteral, then lollygag and capitate. Lunate. Bombdiggitty. Dude. Booyah!
Hamate? Bollocks! Spank my ass, fiddlestick. This hootenanny is exquisite. It is.