There Was Gasoline Stored In The Canteen And The Soap Can't Wash It Out

 

There Was Gasoline Stored In The Canteen And The Soap Can't Wash It Out

She left the polyester sheeting,

Too close to the heating,

And all we were left with was a healthy dose of fermenting linen rags.

They smelled real peculiar at that,

Should have stored them with the hemp ropes in the vat,

Before we siezed them off with bone gelatin, to make more transparent cells.

I simply said, give her a break,

Maybe try not to upset her,

It could only make it harder on the next guy she sees,

So let's think of him now,

Five years away,

In Glyptotek Denmark, two timing a Black Flys sunglasses model,

With an out there timid au pair, 

Who lost her girl bosse's thick Volvo valet key,

Spinning herself dizzy in a repurposed barber's chair.

And since the Middle Ages,

Animals have had to always be kept in cages,

And padlocked door cage reinforced with tenny shoe strings,

You could tell them to stay,

Until your'e zinc white in the face,

But they run run run away,

Unless it's a big fat cow.

So it's the twenty first century,

And scholars are still at a loss,

To precisely define hymen,

And the reading is long,

But they still can't let it go,

So I'll give you a clue,

And I'll tell you one thing,

It's got nothing to do,

With greasing slab of porphyry, 

Staining it with fish or animal glue.

And so remember,

Like a snail on a leaf,

I told the bicycle thief,

It's also hard to have hardgood goals,

Weather by staining Nike online portal dealer assets,

I only know what Correa knows,

And in New York when it rains muffler snow,

Keep your product info up to date on the web,

So on Bing search it shows,

And search engine compliant,

So Heads can rep furry oversized Jamiroquai porkpie,

To convince daughter of Elysium,

Blowing snow cone cokes open too far.

So take a squiggly squirmy squiggle earthworm, 

And dip him in some fresh wine,

If it's oozing slime gunk,

Well then, just simply dip it again,

Fry it up,

Get a pan or a skillet, 

But please try not to kill it,

Cause it still needs to be alive,

When I dump it on your happy meal salad.

And then take a chicken or just a nice cornish hen,

Spice spices in reused plastic convenience store bag,

Shake it up all real sturdy,

But don't worry if the meat gets dirty,

Because the clients are so dumb,

And the searchlight escorts aren't platonic,

But be nice to them at least,

Because I overheard the man say they might be end up picking up the tab,

Because they are probably the last table of the day.