hello dear friends, your faithful tom, has something he must confide
Look at my hands, they're vastly weird, there's chickens growing inside
you can scream right now, you can scream tomorrow, but while you're standing there
could you pass that bucket, oh blast it and fuck it, I wish I didn't have to swear
but your too slow to help, and quite suspicous at that, you see it is too late
I've exploded all over, your cashmere throw over, some say what a terrible fate
But worst than that, is this rhyming shat, with no consistency throughout
of syllables or rhymes, and a plethera of crimes, of english grammer no doubt
Pooled Co-variance matrices
Posted by
Tommeh
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Labels: rhymes
1 comments:
Have I ever told you how much your random rhyming things rock?
Well, they rock.
Post a Comment