The Cynics Won't Get In Our Way

[Colin Combover in a ComaParticipant 5793]

She’s my little breeder
Oh how I need-a
I’m gonna feed her
Brown and white
When I go down tonight

The cynics won’t get in our way
We’re gonna make a crack baby
Definitely maybe, I’ll say

I first saw her on the street
She told me she had a thirst for white meat
When the wind flickered, I glimpsed she had on no knickers
Which exposed her triangle so neat

Took her to where my tadpole meets her hole
To my relief, she had discarded that fig-leaf
But my soul was sold

We exchanged spiritual currency
As I rearranged her state of pregnancy
She already had four, but she wanted more
So I gave in to her implore

I initially thought my pencil had no lead
But now she’s been breed, I know
As I saw push out a little ginger head

Nine months of carry
Gave me the courage to ask her to marry

My proposal was refused
As she felt she was being used

So after the kid, she slid
Back under the neon light
Whilst I hugged the pillow tight

And as I watched her crotch for the last time
I thought, “She doesn’t even know my name”
But when you’ve had so many
They’re all the same

Bareback business really isn’t a crime
It’s just a release of slime
That’s their game

[Author]

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