How great pro thou art?

Takaisin koulunpenkille, Shakespeare!

I can't beat your record. Over seven hundred lousy songs. I don't miss your misses. My hit is this Jesus-free zone.

Lazy crimes beside the pool, having dry meeting with mister Gordon. Maybe I'm lacking conversation skills, six wifes are shouting at Henry the Mormon. Six themes and running little variations, Human misseles are connecting all nations. Like always killer twins have came to collect their small change, "Da doo Ron-Ron" This is honky chateau, And I am a pocket man...POCKET MAN... My trousers belongs to every Don.

Part of me is somewhere else,and rest of me is into deep something. No more sentimental journeys. I'm going to Kyoto. I need perfumed slice of fresh air. You have other ways... Sweet smile and salty elbows, which body-pumps you to the top of Botox-land.

When ladies are in uniform, I am Unicorn. Before I'll face the pussy storm, I am reborn. From the distance I'll watch Madonnas army. TV-sitcom is my shit sit company. Her magic words hurted me, but I'm not bitter. Leap of the Botox lip is litter.