Cheffie Stalker
Experienced
- Joined
- May 19, 2002
- Posts
- 39
It is the east, and my Cheffie is the sun!
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious mooning lobito,
Who is already sick and pale like David Bowie
That thou my Cheffie art far more fair than David's haircut
Be not David Bowie, since she-- I mean he is envious;
Her vestal livery-- what's a livery?-- is but sick and green,
And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.
It is my Cheffie; O! it is my love:
O! that he knew he were. (damned restraining orders)
He speaks, yet he says nothing: what of that? has he lost it?
Her eye discourses; I will answer it with a roll of Charmin!
I am too bold, darn it, ’tis not to me he speaks, the sweet jerk!
Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven and Hollywood,
Having some business, do entreat his eyes with chocolate
To twinkle in their spheres till they return-- oh, not that treat
What if his eyes were there, they in his head like they're supposed to be?
The brightness of Cheffie's cheek would shame those stars
As daylight doth a lamp; his eyes in heaven still in his face
Would through the airy region stream so bright
That birds would sing I Want to Fuck You Like an Animal and think it were all right.
See! how he leans his cheek upon his hand cause he's sleepy?
O! that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek.
And that ain't all. . . .
Oh my darling Cheffieeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious mooning lobito,
Who is already sick and pale like David Bowie
That thou my Cheffie art far more fair than David's haircut
Be not David Bowie, since she-- I mean he is envious;
Her vestal livery-- what's a livery?-- is but sick and green,
And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.
It is my Cheffie; O! it is my love:
O! that he knew he were. (damned restraining orders)
He speaks, yet he says nothing: what of that? has he lost it?
Her eye discourses; I will answer it with a roll of Charmin!
I am too bold, darn it, ’tis not to me he speaks, the sweet jerk!
Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven and Hollywood,
Having some business, do entreat his eyes with chocolate
To twinkle in their spheres till they return-- oh, not that treat
What if his eyes were there, they in his head like they're supposed to be?
The brightness of Cheffie's cheek would shame those stars
As daylight doth a lamp; his eyes in heaven still in his face
Would through the airy region stream so bright
That birds would sing I Want to Fuck You Like an Animal and think it were all right.
See! how he leans his cheek upon his hand cause he's sleepy?
O! that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek.
And that ain't all. . . .
Oh my darling Cheffieeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
you Cheffie
