Fields of dying weeds surround the thorn wearing queen,
the seeds sown were dead before they were planted,
in a world void of colour there can no other,
dying is just a disease invented by a hateful creator with jealousy in their eyes,
so why don’t you blow me world like your queen once did,
can’t you see her red lipstick kiss that still lays upon the tip of my dick?
or do you want to use your fists instead of your mouth?
pleasure or pain is all the same when you’re fuck up like me!