Lyrics

“Who’s Karla?”
Dear Mrs. Chronika Specie. The one and only heffermeister. I look at you with our amazing chemistry…our perma-fried brain chemistry is the hypoxic super glue that holds our gay ass moms together. Wait. Are u my incester? Who is Karla? Who is Karla? A strange catharsis occurred. Some random chick placed her shoes in the wrong stirrups. Everyone in the room slurped their hoods to the left and tons of bad plumbing shaved the tunt. It was not hot at all. “Let’s chop up some ice cakes and leave!” the crew squealed. Now, loving the smell of the barn they took all Mondays off from here on out. Please can they? The chix pubes reeked of burnt toast, as if it were Hansel and Gretels oven bedtime story. “Take me wit ya!” Patty Mayonnaise and her pelvic roadshow bounced merrily to the whorehouse tambourine. “The wheels on the buss go to pound town!” Karla, wherever or whoever, was a bad gurl and had to go to boredom skool. Slishy, sloshy, who’s bad at math now bitch?