|Bad Birthday Poetry for dove
||[Aug. 30th, 2006|03:46 pm]
O pretty blonde Amy
Your jokes often slay me
If you had a wang I would have your baby.
Difficult year, but still, you have so much class,
And by far the smallest ever size of ass,
For your gift, here is a singing Bass.
I would present the Beattles as a prize if I could raise the dead,
but they will continue to dwell on your arm instead.
We both would get sick if we tried to eat bread.
Who knows what the next year will bring?
I hope some dancing and the chance to karaoke sing,
you can count on me for some drama and at least one wild fling.
I hope you celebrate so much that you shoot milk out your nose,
I know you understand when under my armpits dwell my pantyhose,
And on this fine thought, I close.