Poem -

Dead Presidents

Dead Presidents

Traveled to the wasteland
Saw some monsters with green in they waistband
Decide to turn this creep show to a peep show
All money is dead money

Come see
A fellow creep
That loves to sneak
Speckled skin
Serpent hair
I'll make you hard with just a stair

So cash out
Toss them old dudes in the air
Watch me make your
Skin crawl
From my rendition of your wildest dreams


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