the stars in her eyes are an explosion.
like a dying star, you could feel the embers.
they might sizzle, but those droplets of liquid magma are delightful on the tongue.
even the screams are endearing in the right pitch.
the stench of flesh isn't sexy though--
in fact, ash prefers them rare.
big girl you are beautiful, but grace kelly is where it's at.
these girls make anorexia put her ostridge head in the dirt.
after all, the ben & jerry's is beckoning.
two scoops for me with cherries.
(forget that cousin asking "why a spoon?")
あなただけ嫉妬している (you're just jealous).
dawg, these haters want what they can't have.
but we all can't be fergie hittin' dem beats, much less the queen of england.
why be them when you could be you?
really, who cares if you're fritz london blowing shit up in germany?
remember those beautiful explosions, and we'll watch a sunset one day.
forget the eyes and remember her cackling heart.
you'll get ice cream for each display of shallowness.
the sensation is the type that causes sticky, smelly fingers so navigate carefully.
you've got gentility on your side, but when in doubt there's hypnotism.
the playful environment of techno records is one way to woo her.
otherwise you've got a choice between cliches or what's in front of you.
wrote this for AP senior year.
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