::02:09:08::

::: Chateaubriand or Nothing :::

I had a dream that Victor Hugo was at my funeral frenching my sister and kicking soon to be mothers in the stomach,
And on my tombstone it will read: I think I left the stove on
Big breasted women with no clothes on rub themselves to sleep
An angel read a eulogy for me, but my friends eyes did not weep
Selfish bastards, I cruse you from beyond the grave for when it rains it’ll melt your skin and turn your bones to dust which will be blow by the wind

When will all of you stop laughing at decisions I have made, mistakes that nearly shook my faith and items that I have yet to claim
You f*cking Quaker you saw High Noon and got yourself a gun
Thought you were bad cause you killed someone
But your nothing but bad news under the sun

I was buried next to Sal: The Christen Killer
Who later converted to Paul after his vision grew dimmer
There wasn’t a single rose that lay on his grave,
But a young teenage teen who was attracted and gazed, for they both would look if you called out their names
The day of my death will mark the end of this game
“Life can be beautiful” such words are put to shame

Pictures of daughters and mothers smothered in bliss, kissing each others lips
chanting verses from English romantics
“Well what about the French?” Victor said:
“The French can go to hell,” said a man:
“How about you go instead?” Victor replied and stabbed the man in the head 93 times

The only advice that I can give on life is to never fear it even when afraid
I’ll hold my head high while their digging my grave and give a smile to the ladies in the see through lingerie
Up or down right or wrong
Always stay strong

I see you Hugo,
Chateaubriand or nothing