Erasers, they erase words on paper,
I'm a smoker not a vaper,
saw a bug,
so i sprayed her,
while writing a story of a caper.
Writing words,
made a mistake.
The eraser erases the mistake.
Now the mistake is gone,
time to mow the lawn.
The lawn is green,
which is the grass.
Upon my riding mower,
I place my fat ***.
I then realize that I should go to a gym.
Maybe even go for a swim.
Or visit my friend Jim.
I heard he broke a limb.
I think I will go and visit him.
I hop in my car,
a Dodge Monaco Sedan,
cause I am a really big Blues Brothers fan.
Arrived at Jim's house,
hope I'm not too late,
I made a stop for a burger,
which I then ate.
I ringed the doorbell,
the door opens up,
Jim walks out,
and I hear a "Pop!".
Jim is dead,
he lays on the ground,
I see a bullet shell,
a .45 ACP round.
I soon realized,
my mistake,
for that's the same ammunition,
that my gun takes.
I look down at my hand,
and see my 1911,
I killed Jim,
and sent him to heaven.
I walked home that very day,
underneath the skyscrapers,
Erasers erase words on paper.
