Your mantel disguised as a psychic sasquatch by Locust
The chicken bit it (The foreskin knew it)
The sultry salesman worked
to keep his high heels on.
Oh, the doors are talking
Oh, the sheets are stained
A fleshy bowl of nonsense says,
"Apparently a sl*t's been made!"
Why must the fortune teller
always do the dirty work?
It bit the chicken (The skin foresaw it)
And sultry heels worked
to keep the salesman high.
Can I touch your telepathic private parts?