PureVolume

A.C. (nothing is Mrs. Pelled)

This is a vacant occasion.
Court ordered frustration.
The vacancy is on Vacation.
Closure despise.
Clothe, you are lies.
Close your eyes or change the station.
A clock can only fly in one direction,
Depending on which hand has an erection.
Have you ever seen a Time Fly?
Time flys when you’re sight is slurred.
It’s cells are stirred
It sells
It’s hell, manufactured
Time to fly little bird
We are Insects in sex.
Hourglass is skipping
bugs are not our glass
Only half stacked through the grapevine
The Great vine will listen
When its herd
The nest droops the birdie.
Observe the Absurd,
Among us, the Amongst,
Molding fungus like silly puttee.
Virgins are breadless birdies’
My virgins are brand less pity
My vision is a bit less sturdy
But A bite more dirty.
We’re sly little whores
She said “Ill let you see mine if, you let me see yours”
I took her from behind
With seductive design,
“I’ll show you yours, when you show me mine.”
Boots are not made for walking
They’re prosthetic cumfort for cripples
Lips don’t paint emotions
The emotions paint your nipples
In lie one, two, three, four,
In lie five, six to the nine,
In lie heaven and Hate can wait,
But enlieten the Byeble states,
The symbol for the sin of lust is blue.
My sin bowl’s incentive has rusted through.
I have too many locks to open
The keys would be illegal if sent
I have too many keys
The cent of the keys spread disease
Knees are meant to be bent
One Patel down, stream
Circumnavigate and masturbate
Trust us you’ll cum
Just Let us Finish the Fucking Album.

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