[theMuzzl3]

Where is my owner's manual?

My owner's manual is what I'm looking for.
It is what I'm asking for.
Its what I must call for.
It is what I must grope for.
My owner's manual is what I must cry for.
If I can't find it, I'll be done for.
It isn't here, heretofore.
I must find it before I become more sore.
I keep looking for a reason for pleasing them, even when its still the end.
I just want them to take for the gore and horrors that they must pay for.
They should keep in mind what they must account for.
Can you give me what God would send?
Can you mend my heart, which is an open sore?
I could stand for the pain to end.
Please lead me towards the fore of the ship, that points me towards where I will find it.

Can I find it at the store?
Can I find it on the dance floor?
Is it under the stage floor?
Will it be set ashore?
Would it drop in with winds from inshore?
Can I find it offshore?
Can it be found on the sea floor?
Is it on the first floor?
How about the second floor?
Would it be a parquet floor?
Is it hidden in the decor?
Could I find it in the press corps?
Can I see it in musical scores?

I need my owner's manual to tell me what I must go for.
Its got to tell me what to fall for.
I've got to know what I should care for.
Could it show me what I should stand for?
It must tell me what I've been called for.
I'd like it to tell me what to look for.
It has to tell me what I've been sent for.
It must tell me what to shoot for.

Take four:
Could I get it off of the girl next door?
Can it be found by the side door or the front door?
How about the back door?
Can I find it out the car door?
In the barn door?
Do I even want to open the door?
Or is it already an open door?
Is it a half door?
How about a sliding door?
Would it be a screen door?

Does it mean we should prepare for a war, or rise up in antiwar?
Do we want to go to war?
Will we find it, postwar?

Oh fuck it, I don't care any more.
What am I speaking for?
I'm done for.
No more, should I want to find my owner's manual.
What For?
What For You?
I don't have an answer for you.
Hold still for; and allow for me to roar, as I slip it in, some more.
Hardcore, baby, and you'll want more.

You don't even really know the score, nor can you see the score board.
Therefore, you're always going to want some more.
Don't hoard; make sure you got yours, but toss out some more for your people to adore.
Make sure you put yourself first, but feel sorry for your War on others.
Provide for yourself, but live to adore the one who's yours.
You've got my heart inside your drawer.
I feel your core poor through your pores.
Little Mrs.- grab your senor and take what's yours, before the doors are no more readily galore.
You've got to know that your going to love me more.

More and more, I implore you to quest for running for the door.
Take advice from your seniors.
Set your goals for more than what God sent you for.
I deplore you to ignore my cry for what is more than just your adorable lips.
Feel for it, and get a grip on it.
I've got to underscore that what yours is mine, and what's mine is yours.
I call for you to take the floor, and keep in mind that you'll cover for the next in line.
Come in for me, and cry out for what comes before your simple life of chores.
Once more, I'll call you out to run for the dance floor, where you may find what you're looking for.
My heart is yours.

I speak for all of us.
I'm not the only one on this bus.
So go get some robitussin and suck it all in like its a petit four.