Sir Andrew **** & The **** Crust Crew


the sweat of the variation in a dream eating frozen ice cream,
carry on with a tender song help keep you go along,
he walked with shoulders back as a demon he over acts,
tender moments reach out with chemistry below the knees
eats pasta with a greasy spoon in the month of June
sleep...sleep...although whispers in the park,
potatoe with a slice of Key Lime Pie
wired for fantastic goals

tender hours in which still blows colors up your nose
built on the magnificance of your goals...,
he rose to power on a handsome throne
had a crew that was nothing new
with tender means above all that was new...,
saturated sense of call
all to impress the know it all

feelings...
felt the score
amidst whats in the drawer
they got together to help even the score..,

slow to speak...upon my stairs...a loaded gun,
we keep the score lest we are triumphant
blanket me below the breeze swith to freeze