The score now even after Jordan’s lay—
up yours, you punk, confess before I beat the—
she’d deceived you, Lance, her pregnan—
see the Bible, frayunds, Isaiah fifty—
four-car wreck on Hempstead, now this mess—
AGE SPOTS REMOVED ABDOMINAL DIS—
stress the necessity of ecological survei—
Lance, I granted you my virgin treas—
sure proof the stock will soon exceed its latest—
I just flew in from Boston –boy, are my—
arms sold to Jews and Arabs by the govern—
meant to hit the ball straight down the fair—
way under any budget Clinton had pro—
posed in pics with him and Michael Jack—
son, this town ain’t big enough for both—
off us and have more bastard brats on well—
fair weather, then humidity much higher—
but now PLAQUE GAS AND HEMORRHOID’S FIRE.