I hate mondays
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His palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy
There's vomit on his sweater already, mom's spaghetti He's nervous, but on the surface he looks calm and ready to drop worms, But he keeps on forgetting what Leo wrote down The whole crowd goes so loud He opens his jars, but the worms won't come out He's choking how, everybody's joking now The clock's run out, time's up, over, blaow! Snap back to reality. Oh, there goes my daily!  "Im smartest. Your stoped. Dael wiht it." Last bumped on Sep 26, 2016, 8:09:14 AM
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I'll take "Swords" for two hundred Alex.
-Faux Sean Connery |
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