Egyptian tombs and fried mushrooms
I beg my mummy to nurse my wound
Belinda’s trashed her liver smashed potatoes mashed
Reality check cashed King Arthur’s court
We piss and snort branding thighs and swilling port
Belinda’s bound to tables round
Cascading bra finds the candelabra
Young infested theorists half assed and nearly dead
Spout novels of benevolence to counter what she said
Claim you’re European you’re as good as in her bed
We dragged that body back
Half assed as she was choking like a seismograph
There in the gunk squealing “Get me drunk”
Tonight I cringe to think of the thoughts I thunk