fuss bother fuss


fuss bother fuss ( a true story about a twat )

i'm not the bats within your eyes

i'm not the facts that stick to lies

i'm not the stoat

within your throat

i'm not the thunder in your thighs

i'm not the wind within your whines

i'm not the string that binds your twine

i'm not what's flung

when songs are sung

i'm not your sadly absent spine

i'm not the boars up in your skies

i'm not the pork within your pies

i'm not the oats

that float your boats

i'm not your flaming butterflies

i'm not the war within your mind

i'm not the thoughts from your behind

i'm not the dung

upon your tongue

i'm not your phantom pantomime



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