That Sounds Like a Pony

Seven upstairs brothels,

With placards on the mantels,

And ten fish flavoured samples,

With candles in the back.

He was a well dressed suitor,

He had bad breath and cander,

I think they would have liked him,

But he got killed by his manager.

Fuzzy and cuddly he's fozzo the rabbit

He drinks from the nozzle and stinks like a ferret

They bought him a temple with children to play with

Now he sells his skunk blood and talks like a plaintiff

Hello to my red uncles you are my favourite comies,

I'll meet you at sao anthony's and then go to pilates,

Warship, the swordsmen, the multitasking mormons,

That breath up in the shit house when you wrap them in contortions.

God is imodest

Had twenty seven hottest

With forty nine heads in your beds

And yet I'm still your fondest

Take me through the mandibles of pcp and vanderbils,

where PG rated cannibals will share their thoughts on animals

and peanut butter sandwiches will flood the hole that banishes

with sights on things that vanishes but that sounds like a pony.