bing bong the tables gone

Darth Yoda · 07-05-2013, 07:24 PM

Hide twin caliber rifles, behind the Technipigment Poncho
Disguised as liquid in bottles, Nirvanas a centimeter away. It feels like Gestapo.
Pull up in an invisible volvo, and unveil the plot to kill you at Costco
Drinking Moscato, spittin’ my sailor snot with this inching bravado
I’m feeling alright. Gripping the purple pink angel arm
Murderous April. Wearing an all-white perfect knit apron, as I purposely break your arm.
Tourniquet. A painful qualm, escapes your screamish wind-pipe
I’m torn between none, alone with my Mossberg in the Mausoleum.
Storm machine gun. The artillery firing, is exhilarating entirely.
Debilitating. Admiring, your scintillating entirety.
Your most treasured achievements are so desperate, to genius.
I hold world records for speaking, the most delicate pieces.
Your forlorn. I’m the Worlds Most Memorable.
Jesus, even wrote eleven notes. To send the pope
Through Methodist preaching, reaching from the text in Ephesians
ascending to 2nd of Peter. I’m restless. You tense pricks couldnt test my procedures
The collective demeanor, succeeds through your possessive believers
I’m a sect in myself, even dissecting myself. Come inject my bloodstream.
And to attest to this, people, I have video evidence seizure
The consensus, a creature, pretentious in leisure.
The bestest. You get it? Pretenses couldn’t pretend to be clearer
Elections? Pathetic. I’m ahead by a meter, it’s like chess game, with Sensei
I’m ten steps ahead of you, senior. I’ve predicted your intentions, you featured
The way your head tilted to the left when I pretended to sneezer.
And I could spot from 10 meters, the double-knot lace in your sneaker.
You’re weaker. The pivotal preacher.
Give a guest speech at the UN after I leg-kick your leaders.

07-05-2013, 07:24 PM	#1
Darth Yoda Senior Member Join Date: Jan 2013 Posts: 408 Battle Record: 6-2 Accomplishments - Open Mic HOF Rep Power: 20182439	bing bong the tables gone Hide twin caliber rifles, behind the Technipigment Poncho Disguised as liquid in bottles, Nirvanas a centimeter away. It feels like Gestapo. Pull up in an invisible volvo, and unveil the plot to kill you at Costco Drinking Moscato, spittin’ my sailor snot with this inching bravado I’m feeling alright. Gripping the purple pink angel arm Murderous April. Wearing an all-white perfect knit apron, as I purposely break your arm. Tourniquet. A painful qualm, escapes your screamish wind-pipe I’m torn between none, alone with my Mossberg in the Mausoleum. Storm machine gun. The artillery firing, is exhilarating entirely. Debilitating. Admiring, your scintillating entirety. Your most treasured achievements are so desperate, to genius. I hold world records for speaking, the most delicate pieces. Your forlorn. I’m the Worlds Most Memorable. Jesus, even wrote eleven notes. To send the pope Through Methodist preaching, reaching from the text in Ephesians ascending to 2nd of Peter. I’m restless. You tense pricks couldnt test my procedures The collective demeanor, succeeds through your possessive believers I’m a sect in myself, even dissecting myself. Come inject my bloodstream. And to attest to this, people, I have video evidence seizure The consensus, a creature, pretentious in leisure. The bestest. You get it? Pretenses couldn’t pretend to be clearer Elections? Pathetic. I’m ahead by a meter, it’s like chess game, with Sensei I’m ten steps ahead of you, senior. I’ve predicted your intentions, you featured The way your head tilted to the left when I pretended to sneezer. And I could spot from 10 meters, the double-knot lace in your sneaker. You’re weaker. The pivotal preacher. Give a guest speech at the UN after I leg-kick your leaders.