The kids are nutrageous on this righteous day of the epistles. On the third day of nineteen year old's they got mad at the world (they got mad at the world). On the fifteenth day the guy drank his sweet bullet belt into his web based suicide girls. With the last trust eatin' and the feeding tubes siphoned of it's honesty the futile foundation of a pimp with wings lobbying appeared upon his porcelain cum dumpster. Oh on Donner on Dancer the garbage man's cancer disappeared for a second as he cleared up his master with heavy bells on.
Lyrics submitted by SaviorSalvation213