Improdome 6/20/07

Real cigarettes burning fakely, cooking in the oven over bakely. Die Die Die and rise again, abortion doctor makes me yen for fake Japanese blow in the breeze while talk'in nicely with language spicy. You motha screams in your dreams. Guru girls look'in nice want to bang them once twice thrice. Barking dogs, flailing nerds, starting it all with just one word. Curdling laughs, yawns, dawn a new day in a new way, winding the clock back to then. When you ask in the den. Flip flop back and forth look'in through the night, next word insight, or maybe just fly a kite. Answers are never clear or right, sometimes reality bites with protents of things to come. Maybe so you f'in bum. Sling your butt and your junk. Descend, fall, slide into monk like aura for you'll wake up tomorra alone or with someone. No souvineers don't you hope. Don't want to see Doctor with his stethescope, nope, nope, nope. So remember boy and girl, or boy and boy, or girl and girl, use protection, inspection and introspection.