Bite down hard on it,
Break your fucking teeth on it,
Choke on it,
As it slides down your gullet,
Into your belly,
Then out through your blood strings,
And may tiny little droplets of it,
Ooze from your pores,
Making your skin,
Shine with the grease.
SUCK DEATH YOU FUCKING PIGS.
Fuhrman the vermin,
Volpe the plunger,
Michael Dowd and his sleazy crowd,
Should not be allowed,
To step on the ground.
We should construct giant toilets.
We should have public flushings.
And take that thin blue line,
Sharpen it to a fine,
And then stick it where the sun don't shine.