Thursday, 9 April 2009

me verses it.


Origami lady, you're made of matchsticks
Pale and gaunt, so vacant, so still
Inspired, suddenly I want to be sick
With such desperation it's making me ill

Inflatable woman, please mind the cactus
Don't burst before I've heard you sing
I'll sleep on your forearm and eat more ice-cream
For you could have anyone, say anything

Jenny next door, she's not much to look at
She doesn't seem bothered, won't even try
Imagine taking such little care
God knows how she got that guy

Size 10, bronzed, with pearly veneers
5 foot 7, with moves like a cat,
D cup tits and legs up to here -
I'd fork out my organs to look like that.

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