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Bury Me in Borneo
I'm foreign in these parts. I'm horny though. I avoided em at all turns. But join em spring or fall or follow certain Apollo missions to appalling lottery spun fictions. To the moon follow me to the mall or Hell just watch your tall fartin furbie-eyed darky as he guts a gorilla and sets up a stand to sell bananas. It's curtains.
What a mess. Walk with me.
Do I talk to police? Guess. What do you think. A test. A fall festival. I talk to no one but the mother fuckin trees you fuckin peon. Arrest him. On your mother fuckin knees.
See I'm not your mother fucking pleaser I please no people. Cocks. Maybe when I'm Freon tweeking in Korea on the weekend. Wee! Kim Jong Un or whatever his name is in long johns it's clever in Spain they eat dog meat but with grapes.
Gasp. Audible.
Sorry, ma'am. I mean, are you in for a date? Get away from me freak? Great.
Do you like Pina Coladas?
Get away from me, you rapist. I'm not a rapist. Wow. I'm a realist in a mask. I lurk at night and I terrorize purse holding persons cause I dare not fight equals.
Well we will set it for West of the setting sun on the first of the next scary month lets remember it. The date. Row your boat bitch. Ya. Get away from me. Fuckin frightened little vagina having...virgin.
I need a surgeon.
I operate great sedated or sober, on operating tables. Topless beaches, floppy titties in sun light. Preach it. I'm pretty front lobe, in the mid range I suppose. I drove a truck once. Off a cliff. Then I got driven to float. On a sniff. Thoughts form rivers. I flow down them driven by sought after ribbons, I thought were given to philosophical gaffers, wafting into thoughtless streams of drivel I'm lost in the rafters. Rafts in the sink. Gimme weed I'm a Rasta. So far. Oh fuck it I'm all over. Cover is blown. This Safari on Mars is as far out to Atari World or close to a guitar player I'll dare to fare insofar as Get Shorty barely warbled Bob Marley's gnarly reggae sound with its waste rounded off down down to a certain girth woah now the face of a certain woman made its appearance marred and angled to jarring degrees.
Decreed a smart stranger, a park ranger. Ranger Wayswung, a lion wrangler in zebra striped pants his shirt star spangled ... he ran drugs from port to port. He partied a lot, from snort to snort, he put a lot of importance on scarface and threw far out parties himself homely Havana styled phantom Cuban pianos fell and landed from the blue sky it's true. He died ruthlessly.
Diet.
Who is Martin Luther Moose Eye goo why do I float?
What day is today? Right. I'm now insane.
Or is today now yet? Wow. I'll round it up and sound an alarm. Get down! Oh wait I found it. Found what? I forgot. Fuck. I lost it again. It hurts. No harm done. It squirts. Chew up some gum. I'm fucked up and all over this nerdy brew I call a skull a brain stews and all my neurons are in a fury. Flashes of lightening. So flaccid. Dick in a flackjacket. Ball sack in a hairy place. A scary place. The state prison, or in front of the judge and jury waiting to go rubbing my balls furiosly.
Word out.
Done. Bury me.
© JacobAlive
What a mess. Walk with me.
Do I talk to police? Guess. What do you think. A test. A fall festival. I talk to no one but the mother fuckin trees you fuckin peon. Arrest him. On your mother fuckin knees.
See I'm not your mother fucking pleaser I please no people. Cocks. Maybe when I'm Freon tweeking in Korea on the weekend. Wee! Kim Jong Un or whatever his name is in long johns it's clever in Spain they eat dog meat but with grapes.
Gasp. Audible.
Sorry, ma'am. I mean, are you in for a date? Get away from me freak? Great.
Do you like Pina Coladas?
Get away from me, you rapist. I'm not a rapist. Wow. I'm a realist in a mask. I lurk at night and I terrorize purse holding persons cause I dare not fight equals.
Well we will set it for West of the setting sun on the first of the next scary month lets remember it. The date. Row your boat bitch. Ya. Get away from me. Fuckin frightened little vagina having...virgin.
I need a surgeon.
I operate great sedated or sober, on operating tables. Topless beaches, floppy titties in sun light. Preach it. I'm pretty front lobe, in the mid range I suppose. I drove a truck once. Off a cliff. Then I got driven to float. On a sniff. Thoughts form rivers. I flow down them driven by sought after ribbons, I thought were given to philosophical gaffers, wafting into thoughtless streams of drivel I'm lost in the rafters. Rafts in the sink. Gimme weed I'm a Rasta. So far. Oh fuck it I'm all over. Cover is blown. This Safari on Mars is as far out to Atari World or close to a guitar player I'll dare to fare insofar as Get Shorty barely warbled Bob Marley's gnarly reggae sound with its waste rounded off down down to a certain girth woah now the face of a certain woman made its appearance marred and angled to jarring degrees.
Decreed a smart stranger, a park ranger. Ranger Wayswung, a lion wrangler in zebra striped pants his shirt star spangled ... he ran drugs from port to port. He partied a lot, from snort to snort, he put a lot of importance on scarface and threw far out parties himself homely Havana styled phantom Cuban pianos fell and landed from the blue sky it's true. He died ruthlessly.
Diet.
Who is Martin Luther Moose Eye goo why do I float?
What day is today? Right. I'm now insane.
Or is today now yet? Wow. I'll round it up and sound an alarm. Get down! Oh wait I found it. Found what? I forgot. Fuck. I lost it again. It hurts. No harm done. It squirts. Chew up some gum. I'm fucked up and all over this nerdy brew I call a skull a brain stews and all my neurons are in a fury. Flashes of lightening. So flaccid. Dick in a flackjacket. Ball sack in a hairy place. A scary place. The state prison, or in front of the judge and jury waiting to go rubbing my balls furiosly.
Word out.
Done. Bury me.
© JacobAlive
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