|
Chronic fucking, chronic bud |
|
Increased libido |
|
Engorging the flesh pipe |
|
Smoke cum so green |
|
One spurt is not enough |
|
You crave his warm weed inside your vag |
|
Nine months have passed |
|
Since that carnal night |
|
You have tried to forget |
|
Despite the pot, you cannot |
|
You have become a human bong |
|
For this weakiling fetus to grow inside |
|
Putrid fetid infected womb |
|
Too lazy to be born |
|
On the hospital bed legs spread open |
|
Forceps now become roach clips |
|
Swollen placenta, sullen cervix |
|
Dilated |
|
Now the blunted shall be born |
|
Legs spreading further |
|
Legs spreading further |
|
The child runs out, drenched in bongwater |
|
Blunted at birth |
|
No longer there, mind decimation |
|
Brain obliteration, thoughts warped |
|
Reality that once has been changed |
|
Into a cursed gestation |
|
His cord remains attached |
|
His bong has not yet cached |
|
His eyes they teem with pus |
|
His mouth a weedy crust |
|
His tongue is burnt to shit |
|
His nose still smells the hit |
|
His teeth are black with ash |
|
Reeking of the hash |
|
Small green deformed head on baby's body |
|
Doomed to die sonn |
|
Crawling back towards the womb |
|
You have become a human bong |
