what, your daddy was a drunk
you’re trying to take it out on me,
in order to keep me as filth and he as pristine?
oi freud! freud! get in here and sort this out,
i'm not minted enough for a recliner-couch,
i can stand in a queue for vine tomatoes
but i can't do it for a soul i'll be paid for
to analyse: just let me eat the **** tomatoes;
i too wished i missed the v.i.p. pass into the 27 club
though, with hendrix licking for slit tongues on
guitar strings, to no door, to no nirvana, only
applauded by charlie chaplin for the effort.
go on... play along with pippi langstrumpf
while i talk to your dear daddy about pigtail ******
and your crass concern for horrid images
but frail words needing censorship, ms. 'adism.