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I thought sirens were voluptuous women, Who sat upon rocks and sang to men, Who couldn’t think past, The tips of their ***** I was sure they had the longest hair, I had ever seen, That swore to you, It had met with eternity. Through rose-scented ears, And rose-budded drapes, I had heard of their full, soft ******* That breathed airily beneath, The green beads of the sea, Speaking, softly, of impending agendas. " But, I found out yesterday, Their hands are great, Yielding rough spears, Rather than white sarongs. They’re not sitting at all - They actually stand tall, Looming over you, With ***** of their own.
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Jul 23, 2011
Jul 23, 2011 at 8:14 PM UTC
Songs Are Songs Are Songs
I thought sirens were voluptuous women, Who sat upon rocks and sang to men, Who couldn’t think past, The tips of their ***** I was sure they had the longest hair, I had ever seen, That swore to you, It had met with eternity. Through rose-scented ears, And rose-budded drapes, I had heard of their full, soft ******* That breathed airily beneath, The green beads of the sea, Speaking, softly, of impending agendas. " But, I found out yesterday, Their hands are great, Yielding rough spears, Rather than white sarongs. They’re not sitting at all - They actually stand tall, Looming over you, With ***** of their own.
© 2011 Elephants & Coyotes
elephants-and-coyotes
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elephants-and-coyotes
Jul 23, 2011
Jul 23, 2011 at 8:14 PM UTC
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