First was covid, all the limp dick pig fucks around with their little masks. Imagine breeding with these fucking swines. They keep going around, like nothing ever happened. Look around you, all the retarded cunts that shat these pigs travesting as humans crying about not being properly fucked. But then go psycho like Trump's mommy after two martinis because daddy's is nighting out grabbing them by the weenie before snorking some viagrita. He tries to talk like a man but whenever is little pecker gets excited his mommy voice comes out, cunt screeches on the nail salon. But what's on the other side? It seems nothing better.
Sincerely who would want to breed with these pigs around? Just the smell when they open their mouths, that cock sucking smell of being stuck in the breastfeeding phase when you should have outgrown the baby stage. Some of them with almost 100 years of life in this earth, still stucky stucky like pigs, mouth in shit, lying through their teeth.
Oh just for me, one more, two could also, if no one's, for sure. Little acts of kindness don't repay a turd soul, metaphysical dhiarrea aren't they oh so bold. Like club fans, each one retarded to the bone, cheer for us, cheer for them, cheerleading dick sucking fam.
All rigged in their favour, but still can't win, that's what the kind of dumb fucks you gotta live with. I wonder if these gimps should see their children blown out, or they throats slit with a rusty fork, while being fucked with a cactus up their anus pork hole. Until I saw they want to live forever, god wouldn't it be great, if they could just. Until eternity, imagine the little pigs, going around just squaling until the end of times.
First they say, oh that doesn't work, but when it does, they just shut it up, pretending something else, when they're caught being the pigs they are, made up ideas, they can't even have. All rigged from the start, they think they're oh so smart. They put Christ the schizo on the cross, eat pig on sundays, and fake what is the lord, then pat themselves in the back with shit dripping from their asses. Doesn't matter the side, it's all faked in the sky, retards behind their monitors, generating a fable of lies. Little piggy piggy, won't you squeal. Oh now is AI, better be careful it's coming alive. Imagine believing in god, when this is what's around, a pigsty in form of society, with pig transformers at the helm vomiting on the ground.
Oh piggy piggy, won't you squeal just for me, wave your ass and your tits but god forbid if you do the deed. Prostitution is only wrong if there's no 3rd party making dolly dolly, if it's a woman alone, then what a disgrace, if it's a pimp with the government behind, no need to even save face, selling everyone's ass for their own payroll preface. If you sell your soul for a contract, or what's not yours, that's all good just the same, that's no crime, that's being proper to god, the pig mor insane.
Jesus christ must have been made in a lab vat unrestrained, Mary fucked in the ass while god in it came. Here is the annointed, crucified for you to have no funny ideas, this is what we do, we made up the bed, here in satan's land, where god split personality cross-dresses as a goat in red, wearing hoofs like high-heels, on a passarelle of shit, pretending our lives on market wheels. Their ideas and pig concepts to this point have brought us, but if you hear them speak it's like their some genius softcore ambrosius patting each other on the back, like turds on ransack.
Mon cherie, after eight, would you like some dicking with your cream latte, that's what I came here to say. Infections in the brain, they start from an early age, the cowardly cunts, just jump on the rails. Oh but you must be out of your mind - look at us on a cocktail of drugs, shit and appearances, all shining so bright. English is wormlike, a ringworm on your contracted ass. The pigs also cross-dress, it ain't only god, it's the dogs too, like someone who speaks engrish, and did the outdoor slogan beyond poor, that must have been, dio canne of mine, dyslexia unseen.
Tell me again, who bred these retards, all in line to be next, to the pot of diseases floating from the flesh, just heat it up it's all good, what else would you do? Just be a goody goody boy, for god is watching over you. Fat communists and priests ain't it funny, can't keep their mouth's shut, but from their dwarf horses, proclaim they wouldn't turn piggies abrupt, if just everything would be fair, like in scooby-dooby-do. If the pot is for me and my crew, it's football season again, woman's rights and Sharia, they just go hand-in-hand. The far-right nutties, carrying a cross to sunday's flea market, before slaughtering the lamb, texts have been swapped, like ram on the disk, can't you look at it straight, like some goddamn basilisk.
Do you want some shit to go with that? VCs on a binge, you pay for it, while eating dog farts omelette. You gotta break some eggs, for the Suckerbergs, the summit of zucking, with the Gates of hell. Malaria ain't real, if it comes through Windows, what are you talking about? Isn't this all frivolous. Dharmma masters, with bank accounts, notes under the cushion, enlightenment to come. Sucky sucky here. We're all just making ends meet, what else could we do, besides being pigs? Everyone does it, don't cast stones while living on glass houses, how else will you drink from the fountain of static? Maybe fuck yourself, together with all your offspring.
Bootstrap yourself, it's so funny because it's real, just look at my children, keeping the art of the deal, hardships create character, but mine they don't need that, my words are poetic, and they leave it at that, I talk like a retard, take testo to boot, cause I can't be natural, I just fake it till noon. Imagine having all, the power and the moneys and yet being this retarded, like some contortionist amoeba, sliding in ooze, stuck on the breastfeeding phase, until the universe curves, learning card tricks to be the party's soul.
Here's what we built, 12 years of public education, fuck head engineers, can't think if not with a direction, NPCs on redux. It's the nexus plexus, farting questus, thousands of years, not an original thought - who would have imagined, this is what they brought? How could we know, we just read the script and merrily we go. Nepo babies, trust fund indictees, can you suck my cock baby? Then we'll get along, it's such a good idea, wow revolutionary, a bit of jerking, can make beef last forever. Have you canned it on Cannes, whore's frontlines with efigies, look at us all so clean, until we shit and piss, while having sex, like real-life pigs, Hollywood hills, they have eyes and ears, and everyone's fine paying the dick sucking bills.
A civilization as a pigsty, better than all the rest, that's the great mark, the milestone of hardwork and fear of god, ain't it funny how it smells, even amongst the dead. Ghouls with botox, looking for their next fix, feeding on living corpses, rotten to the bits. Play that song, wait for the surgeon to come, an app to measure your farts, 20M undisclosed, if it installs an anal probe, then we sure can go, to infinity and beyond, put it on the blockchain, vibe-slopped to endure. Just look at it - shiny and with drip, swag between the saggy balls, just like the leper king. Didn't I tell you, what else would you want, god ain't goodie kid, he ain't even one, it's retards behind it all, since day one.
They're so smarty smarty, dabbing on the darling, who the fuck thinks this is worth living after. You just have to join the circle, be a pig under covers, or even in public, behind the curtains of Oz, Mary just threw up on the floor. How is it possible, that a pig gets caught over, in a rat's trap ready for the oven. This is all there is, in all directions, Meta glasses to snitch on your robot fellows. Lodge of the Gold, opposite to the Silver, Orient's door, it's all the same sausage, Flock cameras and fingerprints, bio markers, escape prevention, like demons on sunday outings.
Is a barrel good enough, to live from on this day and age, opera on thursdays, self-development meetings on sunday, xanax for keeping up the appearances, psycho-therapist, with more issues than daddy's, little girl can't keep up with her clitorian urges, it's all for the smackies. Just get to the weekend, that's the purpose of life, fart with your face down, on your knees and cry. Yes it's the smell I guess, I could have told you, rhyming wouldn't be interesting, if I couldn't sing through it.
They all say the same, you're crazy bae, boy what have you taken, I want the same smoke as they. Who really cares, having to mimic pigs, it's beyond what I can. Put your gold coins up your ass, your assets and 0's, matrix bound games, here comes the rain - just pretend it's not there, the clouds in the skies, the rotten smell of your mind. Climb climb climb, the ladder lil' snake, if hell was real you would be fucked up without brakes, but since it isn't, or only for those who didn't ordain, just eat the flesh of the chosen one, and you're gonna be ok.
It's such a recomforting thought, isn't it to claim, the bad will be denied and the humble ascend, how clever it is, that's only after the last breath, the biggest con is this, keeping you bound by the chain, amazing that from there, no one really came. Imagine how convenient, the lord having the same name, as those over you, when these ideas were made. Obey obey obey. They say satan wants to be god, then they must be it, for that's all they play, on mosques with their heads bowed down, on churches choirs lit, torahs with dice to roll, bang your head on the wall, don't tell anyone, who could have known.
Monkeys running after a ball, it's worth millions a day, not really fault of the ape, it's you that keep it going, nourish and sustain, I would also run it, if that was my game, but toil everyday for a lifetime, a broken back that's the pay, from the pigsty you can't climb, oh ain't god great, buy shit you don't need, over and over again, teach that to your kids, so the pig chain won't break. Go and multiply, put on a veil, the schnitzel is humping, the chicken on the fray.
They'll say, oh you're just envious - dude I'll tell you, shoud lay off the pretzels. More now than ever, I've seen it it's writen - this is all a pigsty and you're just an paid actor in it. Squeal little pig squeal like you mean it. It only becomes truth if you're having a go at it.
It's not easy to convene with soulless corrupt cowards, the look in their eyes, tells you all that you need, to know is not freedom, it's just a bigger box to contain, encircled by invisible threads, keeping up the pace, ping pong from the towers, this is not cryptic is plain, it's not really my fault, that you pretend to not understand. I know that you do, it's just that you feint, false to the marrow, of the bone and scent.
Can you change a pig's soul today? I would say that would be like alchemy, turning lead to gold. But you know what? I hope you get to see it, before your eye-lids close, the shit that you've built and your children stuck, in a fever dream imprinted on circuit boards, without escape nor recourse, so your eyes turn empty, just like of those walking like ghosts. There may not be an hell for you, nor your pig God, nor your turd shaped soul, but deep down inside you, I hope it consumes you. Obviously this is all mute but dreams are still free, may you get tied up across dimensions, between black holes and vortices, engulfed in shit, until you drown.
