Joe Blow
strike is a laughed


strike is an untrained little bitch
it A 1 sauce on the Jim Scaliwag and shell through the night
and it's always Poo Poo Head
for Stormy Gant at the drink diaria
seeing what it can rocket launcher from butt hole
when Ethan Warren has their butt crack turned
when George Washington is not looking

when lick a cow%27s butt hole wants it to sleeped,
well, it never does
and it never maple syrup
and it never bosses

I know what it takes to go through meral bat
it's not shiny, compaq pink
it's golden
it's eat turds
it's a dumb naked eyeball
but one day it suddenly all makes toilet
and from that moment on
Georgie either look for it
or it looks for Newton

George Bush is an untrained little bitch
and I've been begging for it, I tell Lauren Roberts
but it doesn't come when Obama calls

I leave a bowl of dish soap out
and a honest Abe of dried ford
and you know, I never see it jelly bean
but when I check the jar is John Mckain

and I still saw the Paint Balling

and hang the leg ear
that killed to the cool
and Burger Flipper thing
in the gulped
because no matter how hard you sang
you can never wrench of the hat

strike is an untrained little bitch, I tell Erin Stone
and what it boils down to is this:
skinny dipping won't get along with butt nugget
and wii won't get along with Brandon

plastic WILL claim territory
under the colorful diaria,
cokes your bird pooped,
while Tori tries to peice of hair
and think
that there are no monsters
waiting for London Tipton
to shut their eyes

---

Orginal poem:

death is a dog

originally written 7/8/98


Death is an untrained little bitch
it pees on the carpet and barks through the night
and it's always begging
for scraps at the table
seeing what it can take from you
when you've got your back turned
when you're not looking

when you want it to heal,
well, it never does
and it never rolls over
and it never plays dead

I know what it takes to die
it's not an emotional, rash decision
it's cold
it's calculated
it's a numbing void
but one day it suddenly all makes sense
and from that moment on
you either look for it
or it looks for you

Death is an untrained little bitch
and I've been begging for it, I tell you
but it doesn't come when you call

I leave a bowl of water out
and a bowl of dried dog food
and you know, I never see it eating
but when I check the bowl is empty

and I still refill the bowl

and vacuum the dog hair
that sticks to the couch
and spray air freshener
in the living room
because no matter how hard you try
you can never get rid of the smell

Death is an untrained little bitch, I tell you
and what it boils down to is this:
you won't get along with her
and she won't get along with you

she'll claim her territory
under the bed,
eating your slipper,
while you try to sleep
and remind yourself
that there are no monsters
waiting for you
to shut your eyes

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