I Need Tea
...ha highly flung surfin’ in my modern black hole On the skies of the moon where he’s on fakin’ the shite In the way of uber-trottin’… SPREAD ASSE! Doo! Bess! Lake! There! Make that punk dress funny, gals! Doo! Bess! Lure! Ein! Acid on Dell Guy! I need tea, itsy bitsy hockey I need tea I need tea, itsy bitsy hockey I need tea Doo! Bess! Lake! There! Make that punk do sunny dance! The discontented spleen held a shotgun in his gaping manifold, but the infected lung refused to tolerate the muddy parasol left out in the rain. Armored waistbands, bulging with caviar, laid waste to the centralized nest of the derringers. Miles above it all, Zeus fought Cthulhu for the almighty burrito. “Never!” said the spleen, turning a blind eyeball to the crows, “I am the Dr. Super Love! I am the Lex Luthor of Supermen, no lung can underhand my overmind! Vaporize my ice cream with your dreary motorcade.” The lung, dripping with owls, responded in kind. “You are the penny in my dresser drawer! I give no consideration to your fatty pile of secrets. This is my wedding, and you have no elephant.” In the struggle, the almighty burrito heard the commotion, and retarded his metronome for the duration of the eternal bathrobe. He sank to the spleen’s floating landscape of sexual metaphors and revolutionized the battery. In a flash of retrograde motion, he sundered the microphone and spewed forth a sweet smelling flammable gel. “PENIS!” bellowed the almighty burrito. “VAGINA!” he shouted. It was his battle cry. “Exploding watermelon reindeer!” said the spl...