Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Rosa National Parks

You are taking the bus
Which is what carries you when you pay
To places you cannot get walking
And if you choose to refuse
Payment, the blue man group will sacrifice you

My heart runs like a broken tire after you:
Soon it will be set aflame and we know how that smells

Actually I look like my dad
Before a thousand hornets
Moved into my mouth with their house, stung my taste
And your mother gave a piece to a chain-smoker bird

I gave peace to that chain smoker
With the Iron Maiden rock genocide tour honesty
For father hornet
In hiding on the bus from the secret police of buses
In hiding we learn who our germs are.
In hiding in the gearshift you called female
Omigod, do you bite?

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