Wednesday, February 18, 2015

2.1387 : 2/18/09 : CHEESE

This book of petty sorrows
requires more CHEESE
a sunset and a butterfly
if you please
I’ll ride off into that sunset
on my faithful mare
While I serenade you
run my fingers through your hair
Why can’t everything
just fucking be nice
I asked the Lord
I asked that bastard twice
I asked three times
but it was no charm
well bless my soul
I’ll move it to the Cheese Farm
I like butter, I like milk
I like things made of cotton and silk
I’m going to walk it if I
have to walk it on my knees
Because I’m pretty sure the moon by now
is made of CHEESE

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