Anal logy of solitude.
lyrics
Drinking the hymens of dead fetuses
During your odorless mononuclear
Fill your sluts' tubes with my horn
But I don't want to put my penises in her man's vagina
When being poorly trained becomes a godsend
Your baby is OVERATED
Bacterial pornography has something to be proud of
Put your penis in bleach, things will happen
Your Italian grin under the pelvis does me good
But the body of the king is too narrow to satisfy my ego
Testicles out, tickles the navel, uses a spinning top for an orgy
Rubs the globe, sticks the pinote, to image the rusk
You bowed before the case of our furious partridges
And without saying goodbye, “I wasn’t thirsty at first”
It stirs in the tympanic canal
Could it be your seed that unbalances me?
Long live the dedication with which you play your instrument
br/>You dropped your microphone in my spaghetti
If we never met at the jizz festival
Well we hold his seed tight and we fight until... to sperm!
Metaphor, metaphor for, metaphor for CROSSING FULL STRONG
The solitary pleasures to which you abandon me
Eclectic, like the places where I I indulge in it
The hives in the air and the vulgar tone of your ovaries
Discriminate against the richest of my creations
Have access to the anuses of the whole world
I would like to bleed my nose, as low as possible, out of pity
My dismissal of emotion scares romantics
ethics or not, my first draft is always good
The innocent intention of substituting the good of humans
Forces me to soothe the blood concentrate of a shark
Constipation in vitro will have your skin
The one that encompasses, halo your ego
Ten unknown oysters in the shape of a dildo
An emission of the most stupefying sounds
The pancrea sprinkled with air freshener
A grapefruit to soothe the libido
Seminal massage please
Lack of tenderness: Gourmet game