Guitar of plastic hoisted as a weapon,
Clicking like sticky keys.
The scarlet of his hoodie blinds him,
Obscuring the scrolling primary notes,
While his boxers billow with the force of his rock.
Bottle green reaper writhes with the rhythm,
As he caresses the whammy bar.
Dominating the Sabbath,
He smirks at me in triumph,
And I lift my shirt in amazement.
The star power is ready,
The star power is ready,The star power is ready, oh.
Bacon Dress
It's hawter than yours.
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