I can handle insanity. Three to four hours of flat out maximum intensity purple faced screaming and weeping for no reason on earth though, every day, that I cannot deal with
Dude, this is Canada; Canadians don't party like Americans do. Americans have tailgate parties at games. Canadians just set fire to cars and break store windows in a blind drunken rage at being stuck in such a dark dank cold place.
Nothing was delivered And I tell this truth to you Not out of spite or anger But, simply because it's true
Now you must provide some answers For what you sell has not been received And the sooner you come up with them And the sooner you can leave
Nothing is better, nothing is best Take care of your health and get plenty of rest
Nothing was delivered And it's up to you to say Just what you had in mind When you made everybody pay
Now I hope you won't object to this Giving back all that you owe And the sooner you come up with them And the sooner you can go
Nothing is better, nothing is best Take care of your health and get plenty of rest
No, nothing was delivered I can't say I sympathize With what your fate is going to be Yes, for telling all those lies
No, nothing was delivered Yes, and someone must explain That as long as it takes to do this Then that's how long you'll remain
Nothing is better, nothing is best Take care of your health and get plenty of rest
Read more: THE BYRDS - NOTHING WAS DELIVERED LYRICS
Nothing is finer than to be a decrepit old man. First of all there's that sickeningly sweet odor of death that get exuded from every pore of your wrinkled pallid skin, like the skin of a thanksgiving turkey for sale in a butchers window only with hair. It is the culmination of a lifetime devoted to sensual deliquecense.
Then the young whore is summoned from her pimp. Iron discipline enforced in reply to inexorable drug debts will compel her to attend your summons regardless of her natural repugnance. The juxtaposition of her silken nubility with you senile rotteness is worthy of the study of a great painter. She disrobes nonchalantly and lies passively on the her back on the luxurious bed of my glass and steel mansion overlooking Palm Springs from my own private irrigated mesa. Her mind wanders to fantasies of the drugs she'll soon be intoxicating herself with.
I too disrobe revealing my taut jaundiced paunch and my even more taut loaded colostomy bag swaying sensuously like a blood engorged penis attached to my pierced flank.
I lower myself over her gently at first then with all my weight as my iron grip seizes her white slender arms. Then her eyes open with suprise and horror as the first whiff of the foul exhalations from my cadaverous mouth, a mouth like a hen's wrinkled arsehole only ornamented with grinning twisted cracked teeth, yellowed with age.
Bearing down on her with all my weight I deftly trap my loaded colostomy bag between my own barrel shaped rib cage and her pure white belly. My penis stiffens somewhat to a semi flaccid state in anticipation of the ejaculation to come. But not an ejaculation of seed but rather an explosion of half digested food and raw bile pouring all over her pure white belly. Her delicious cries of distress at the unspeakably malodorous stench only further act to excite me to a tooth grinding frenzy causing me to shed a few drops of foul smelling clear brownish seminal fluids from my wrinkled pizzle as I bray like an angry mule with excitement.
You can't have real country music without country people and that race has been eradicated since the sixties.
.jpg "http://www.pkp.in/images/a/Young%20George%20W%20Bush%20(1).jpg")
