hey, there's no need for pretenses, it is only a song title after all: part III and two halves of a third
deconstructing the motivations of a garden slug
knee deep in the penis cream
for some reason beyond me, this guitar is reverberating ad nauseum
the song that incorporates jazz whitely
this salad is uninspired: take it back, fair waiter

The lost, then found, then lost again art of refurbishing a crazy bitch

Ultimate fighting commercial break urination = Ultimate relief!

Turned on its side, your other daughter looks like a stapler

Your otter looks like your (the Rescindling)

Four of the eleven ways to spend the $50 you got for mouth-banging Carson Daly's mom on a bet

Socks : wet

Cherry rubrick, shall we listen to avant poets?

The chemical symbol for Tungsten is W

These stringed instruments, your demise

Aye, poppy, nooooo!!

scott wrote:The chemical symbol for Tungsten is W

No way.
"I need Tungsten to live" would be a much better title

beep beep beep: the cellular death knell, soul for the packing

we burned the barn called "save the land" and built a freeway to the penetentiary

bug-eyed lampshade--shield us from cancer of the mind

crooning reeds die shift and swayed beneath atomic wind of bombs and skies full of fire

boring

mrdfnle wrote:boring

let's see you do better. (for the record, i'm going to hope really hard that you were kidding in your last post in this thread, and that you actually know what post-rock is, and so appreciate the humor being presented here. thanks.)

The song titles are like poetry. Poetry makes my blood boil. Poets attempt to capture a second and describe every nuance. my writing is vomit. Get it out of me and get on to the next thought. My writing is more of how long does this second have to last. Poetry will never be my vomit.

"Was (Not Was)"

- It's the End of the World as We Know It (And All My Sweaters are at the Bottom of My Hamper)

- Probably Recent Mail

- Love Theme From "Rubic's Cube"

- Cubist's Rube

where's izzy? straddling that pony that the pee girl drew when i loved her in a secret moment.

the mage is a silver oxen and we have childproof lighters.

temples of syrinx, cocksucker.

i drove her home and i smelled cannonballs.

fort sumter is a pretty picnic and you are a tugboat in my cock.

pineapple & vodka cures english cocaine cures shyness do you speak it motherfucker do you speak it?