Today is the day,
Are soon on their way.
From the brains in your head,
To the feet in your shoes,
You are soon to be beat,
And you're soon to be bruised.
You'll have blood on your head, crusted into your hair,
No wounds will ever heal, not the cuts or the tears,
With your head leaking brains and red stained white cleats,
The athletes will beat you while you're out on the street.
They'll touch all of your ups,
And they'll touch all of your downs,
From the back to the front,
From the tip to the crown.
They'll open you there,
Wide open and bare.
Outside things will happen,
They will continue to do,
Things that mess with your head,
Because you are a Jew.
And when things will happen,
Don't worry, don't stew,
Just go along with,
Whatever happens to you.
THE ****'S YOU'LL MEET!
You'll be up on your way,
To see some pretty sights,
Then a **** will show up,
And knock out your lights.
You'll lag behind, because you don't have the speed,
The whole gang will jump you, they'll do it, indeed,
Wherever you go, you'll fight the best of the best,
They'll use their fist to rip your heart out your chest.
Except when they don't,
Because sometimes they won't.
They will be high or drunk or maybe just blue,
They'll be so sad and depressed, they'll do nothing to you.
They will either hang themselves,
or pray in the church,
They will put down their weapons,
and stop the search.
Upon leaving the church,
You'll surely feel a thump,
And chances are then,
That you've just been ******.
A special kind of ****,
That will leave you stunned,
While it's up in the ****,
You'll scream, "This isn't fun!",
You'll feel the reaming of Muhammad and Mark,
One is a light skin, and the other, rather dark,
They'll tear through your **** like it isn't a sin,
Then they'll turn you around and take you for a spin,
And a slurp, and a choke, until the stuff drips down your chin.
When they finish, will you have the strength to fight,
Or will you barely be able to tell left from right,
You'll be so dizzy that you think you might be blind,
It must have been too much ramming from behind,
After they're done, they'll keep you in prison confined.
You will get so confused,
While they're booming the bass,
Riding you faster, at such a neck-breaking pace,
Riding the throat then spilling all over the face,
Then they leave you in shock, in this dark humid place,
Dark... humid... place...
...just waiting and waiting,
As the seasons come and go,
And cars will come and go,
And people come and go,
Some people ask, "Are you okay?",
and you say, "No.",
You continue to just wait.
Wishing that you were just white,
Instead of a Jew that gives off a fright,
To every non-Jew and hater despite,
Religion or if they're dead or awake,
So you still lay there in anguish and ache,
You'll soon get the nerve to pull up your pants,
And then you'll walk south until you reach France,
Every step is a throbbing pain in your ***.
YOU WILL NOT GIVE UP!
Somehow you'll escape,
The praying then spraying,
Removing all hope,
Whatever was remaining.
As you leave Germany,
you will say goodbye,
But you were too loud,
And you were stopped by a guy.
The man screams out, "HAULT!", as you begin to run,
And now you realize that the great chase has begun,
As you are running away, you trip and you fall,
Still wanting to flee, away you sluggishly crawl,
You feel the mans hands grab so you beg and you plea,
You loosen the grip, stand, then pinned against a tree.
Rammed into the wood,
Knocked out, this is no good.
I'm afraid you'll be caught,
And chopped up in a stew,
This is bound to happen,
No matter what you do.
Whether you like it or not,
Dead will be something,
You'll be in the ***.
And when you are dead, there's a very good chance,
That a necrophiliac will find romance,
He'll steal your body with his swiftness and brawn,
You'll make him say, "I do want life to go on!".
On he will go,
With his moaning and growls,
On he will go,
Stretching right towards your bowels,
On he will go,
Like a wolf he will howl,
He will awkwardly peck,
With his mouth like a beak,
Upon the great hole,
In which he took a leak.
On and on he'll strike,
Until all the white tar,
Comes out of his *******,
Dirtying his new car.
He doesn't own a horse,
But a car you can blow,
Because there are thirty *****,
Hanging off the window,
And the wheels are some *****,
That are hardened and cracked,
This is a normal car,
This car isn't abstract,
This car doesn't run on gas so it's quite the heft,
When it's pushed up hills with hands of the deft.
So... will you bleed?
Will you beg and plead?
(This Is Actually Zero Percent Guaranteed)
JEW! YOU ARE IN CHARGE!
This is your life, your way,
You're able to seize the day,
You can go to all places,
You can choose to leave or stay,
So please do what you wish,
And your life will be great.
Parody of Oh, the Places You'll Go. I'm not really sure where I was going with this. It's very random...