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:	post by MarkFuckingRichards at 2008-08-28 04:30:50

Oh, and here are lyrics if anyone wants to gurgle along:

Phallus Palace

The king and queen are perched loftily
On a throne of lust and smut,
Commanding a kingdom overrun with rape and orgies,
Keeping slaves to serve as nympho-sluts.

Built on a foundation of pornographic exploitation,
Walls held together with deviant ejaculation,
The palace oozes sex and sin, standing solid like a rock.
They sow the seeds of rape and reap a crop of hardened cocks.

Bodies moaning, strewn about;
Spread eagle like open wounds.
Phalli raised like victory flags
At war with willing wombs.

The never-ending orgy that is the phallus palace
Will cease to be when the streets flood with release.
They are content, embracing swollen members and wet lips.
The ultimate orgasm will ensue on the day of Acockalypse.

Ovaries Over Easy

I wake up every morning to the average breakfast cuisine,
But my pallet has been numbed by this everyday routine.

I’m sick of eating corn flakes and I hate preparing pancakes,
I’m in need of something to new to bake, so open your legs for fuck’s sake!

Brown eggs are local eggs,
But the ones I want are between your legs;
My demands may seem sleazy,
But I need your ovaries over easy.

Bacon, ham and sausage constructed of psuedo-pork
Have found a regular home on my plate with my knife and fork.
Yet, now I’m hungry for the best of delicacies,
Scrambled vulva with a side of ovaries.

Brown eggs are local eggs,
But the ones I want are between your legs;
My demands may seem sleazy,
But I need your ovaries over easy.

I used to wash breakfast down with fresh-squeezed juices,
Now for some reason I’m thirsty for fresh menstrual fluids.
I’m sorry girl, I don’t mean to scare ya,
But I’ll trade in my toast anyday for your scrumptious labia.

Your hatchet wound has become an all-I-can-eat buffet,
Grab a bib and some wetnaps, I’ll be eating all day.
You’ve got a baby maker perfect to munch,
Man that clit-club sandwich sure packs a punch!

I think I’ll eat your ass for brunch
And fuck your face in place of lunch.
I guess tomorrow I’ll have to snack on your mammories,
Since now you will be known as uterless and novaries.

Doggie Dos & Doggie Don’ts

Old McDonald owned a thriving farm,
He married by 18 but couldn’t resist a horse’s charm.
By 62 his wife grew ill and could no longer dirty talk.
His wang grew weak and was only aroused by a floppy donkey cock.

Dirty Old McDonald had a pig and a cow
He rammed their asses sideways and their pussies he did pound.
Filthy Old McDonald had a chicken fucking spree
And on the day the eggs did hatch, a man chick family.

He once romanced a duck and fucked it with a knife.
He’d stick his dick in anything except of course his wife.

By 69 he plugged his whole farm alphabetically;
He started over going from A to D…
For he fell in love with the precious gash of doggie,
And after that all his days were sunny.
He found the canine cooter eager to please
And now he wants his puppy down on four knees.

Dirty Old McDonald had a pig and a cow
He rammed their asses sideways and their pussies he did pound.
Filthy Old McDonald had a chicken-fucking spree
And on the day the eggs did hatch, a man-chick family.

On Easter Sunday he wandered into the pen
And proceeded to defile Peter Cottontail.
But to his surprise, the feeling could not compare
To his best friend’s hairy beaver, shaved bare.
It was love at first plunge; no more sheep, goats or frogs,
Only the juicy, luscious touch of his dog.

Old McDonald was the filthy old fuck that inspired this song.
No more doggie dos and don’ts, this love cannot be wrong.

WOOF WOOF!

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