• FunkyStuff [he/him]
    ·
    2 months ago

    The fart's on fire and there's no driver at the wheel
    And the sewers are all muddied with a thousand lonely feces
    And a stinky wind blows

    The band is playing
    And we're on so many drugs
    With the amps on and the flashlights drawn

    We're trapped in the belly of this horrible concert
    And the butt is pooping to death

    The sun has fallen down
    And the concertgoers are all leering
    And the crap sits dead in pestulent piles

    • FunkyStuff [he/him]
      ·
      2 months ago

      I said: "piss on me, you're beautiful -

      These are truly the gas days".

      You brapped my pants and we fell into it.

      Like a daydream or a fever

      • WashedAnus [he/him]
        ·
        edit-2
        2 months ago

        We woke up one morning and farded a little further down
        For sure as the valley of death
        I open up my wallet
        And it's full of poop