I drop to my knees. I keel over, coming hard. My **** in your mouth; My throbbing **** in both your palms, I sink calmly into oblivion, The happy ending devoutly to be wished, For any ******* worth its salt, What most matters to draftees of the Legion, Roman plebeians applying most of their salary To local honey BJs. Salt: the poor man’s ******. Go ahead sacrifice my life for Rome, Waste me in Gaul or Britannia, **** me away for the Empire, Exploit my wives, Demean my offspring prostitutes. But, please, Just leave me my *** and TV, Free Velveeta and Obama-Care.