You upset her. © Donna Rae Lands
You pissed off that focking bitch.
She’s such a whore, that you don’t know which.
The plot carries on till the morning dawn.
She’s riding merry-go-rounds singing musical-crazy sounds.
Oh darling, she was graciously ever so smooth.
The touch of your pounding heart was to always soothe.
It was always to roll and play her sweet little tricks.
Was it all about the almighty dick and the cigar tiny pricks?
You pissed off that focking bitch.
She’s such a whore, that you don’t know which.
The plot carries on till the morning dawn.
She’s riding merry-go-rounds singing musical-crazy sounds.
Thunder with the beating led to all her cheating.
Pretty faces were destined for all those silly places.
She thought she was the lady of cool.
But actually she was a stupid blueberry fool.
You pissed off that focking bitch.
She’s such a whore, that you don’t know which.
The plot carries on till the morning dawn.
She’s riding merry-go-rounds singing musical-crazy sounds.
Anguish of sorrows touched her groins-watching men as they threw their haunted coins.
It was always painted crimson red for her burning bed.
She’s reeling from all the tokens of the villains.
She’s the angel in the street-till the devil in the house came to greet and meet.
You pissed off that focking bitch.
She’s such a whore, that you don’t know which.
The plot carries on till the morning dawn.
She’s riding merry-go-rounds singing musical-crazy sounds.
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