High Times In Harvey Taylor.
Part III: Slutty Dancing.
I'm
speed-ball
racing
at
85 mph
on a
55 mph road.
Drive to survive.
Getting down,
with the radio,
dancing like a *****
rocking my ****
hotter than
a
***** stamp.
Putting on a
show,
for all the ghosts passing by.
during my
head rush hour.
Time
predicts
Nothing good
for me except for
the chance to
get into
a head on
crash crush collision.
Sirens, lights, noises & Pigs.
Maybe they'll take me home
for a **** slumber party?
I always try to see the best in people.
If I have no luck looking,
I just pretend I'm blind.
Mar 29, 2012
Mar 29, 2012 at 1:19 AM UTC
High Times In Harvey Taylor.
Part III: Slutty Dancing.
I'm
speed-ball
racing
at
85 mph
on a
55 mph road.
Drive to survive.
Getting down,
with the radio,
dancing like a *****
rocking my ****
hotter than
a
***** stamp.
Putting on a
show,
for all the ghosts passing by.
during my
head rush hour.
Time
predicts
Nothing good
for me except for
the chance to
get into
a head on
crash crush collision.
Sirens, lights, noises & Pigs.
Maybe they'll take me home
for a **** slumber party?
I always try to see the best in people.
If I have no luck looking,
I just pretend I'm blind.
Request permission to use this poem