Charmin is the only toilet paper worth a damn.
Wiping my ass with a cowboy mentality.
I’d rather be a cigar store Indian or a Cleveland Indian than some cowpuncher who doesn’t know their ass from a hole in the ground.
John Wayne was always on the wrong side of the law, as Hollywood portrayed him as the hero until he got stomach cancer and rotted from the inside out.
We’re all immigrants, no matter how you slice it, and before Trump put on a brown shirt and started rustling up brown and black people, Obama was nicknamed the deporter-in-chief for deporting more people than any previous president.
We have to find someone to blame for all of the wrongs we do, as we start race war after race war to distract people from the state-sponsored genocide taking hold right before our bloodthirsty eyes.
Donald is Uncle Sam’s perfect shitstorm, as a pedophile wrapped in the American flag scores touchdown after touchdown with the skulls of children spiked in the end zone like it’s no big deal.
Charmin keeps both my asshole and my conscience clean as the blood on my hands becomes crusty in the wake of all this guilt washing over me like a disenchanted summer breeze.
I was ashamed by the skeletons in my closet until I realized that America, the beautiful, has always been a grassy knoll away from wiping out Camelot.
A modified 1961 Lincoln Continental four-door convertible presidential limousine riddled with bullets as an imperfect man became a symbol for all the lost hope and shattered dreams gathered up like bluebonnets and then discarded in the streets of Dallas like confetti or JFK’s brain.
I’d rather be a cigar store Indian or a Cleveland Indian than some cowpuncher who doesn’t know their ass from a hole in the ground.
John Wayne was always on the wrong side of the law, as Hollywood portrayed him as the hero until he got stomach cancer and rotted from the inside out.
We’re all immigrants, no matter how you slice it, and before Trump put on a brown shirt and started rustling up brown and black people, Obama was nicknamed the deporter-in-chief for deporting more people than any previous president.
We have to find someone to blame for all of the wrongs we do, as we start race war after race war to distract people from the state-sponsored genocide taking hold right before our bloodthirsty eyes.
Donald is Uncle Sam’s perfect shitstorm, as a pedophile wrapped in the American flag scores touchdown after touchdown with the skulls of children spiked in the end zone like it’s no big deal.
Charmin keeps both my asshole and my conscience clean as the blood on my hands becomes crusty in the wake of all this guilt washing over me like a disenchanted summer breeze.
I was ashamed by the skeletons in my closet until I realized that America, the beautiful, has always been a grassy knoll away from wiping out Camelot.
A modified 1961 Lincoln Continental four-door convertible presidential limousine riddled with bullets as an imperfect man became a symbol for all the lost hope and shattered dreams gathered up like bluebonnets and then discarded in the streets of Dallas like confetti or JFK’s brain.