The Locust

Your Mantel Disguised as a Psychic Sasquatch


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The chicken bit it (The foreskin knew it)
The sultry salesman worked
To keep his high heels on.

Oh, the doors are talking
Oh, the sheets are stained
A fleshy bowl of nonsense says,
"Apparently a slut's been made!"
Why must the fortune teller
Always do the dirty work?

It bit the chicken (The skin foresaw it)
And sultry heels worked
To keep the salesman high.
Can I touch your telepathic private parts?


Writer/s: The Locust

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