Fill Your Pockets And Run Poem by abi Whitaker
Fill Your Pockets And Run
So you're calling me Babe and Hun
in the middle of our argument
i wanna fill your mouth with cement
you sound like barbie
so fill your pockets and run
why the hell would you bring a gun
that slob behind the till won't dare to chase us
so we'll catch the next bus
and be away with ourselves
we'll all be damned to hell
the criminals
if you can't beat 'em
join 'em.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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5/1/2024 11:00:03 PM # 1.0.0.1119
