Malta N N N Falta

Malt M M M Fault

Can you imagine, cumtemplayt, breathe your luttle doggie Maltese? No? So, this is the first shocker of May, the one of a rabid kind, animal cruelty! Nah, actually, naha, relapse, err, relax, baby. Bu bu butt for Mr. Bean, yeah, most definitely.

I know, I know, that you know that I know that you know that I’m pink-accidentical, not testical, kay, err, identical to Oz Car Wilde, the cash, err, the crash, I mean your teddybear c-rush, crush. ‘Cause with my fade, err, face I dr-ama-tically seduce any accident, any accident of neightour, without boozing on shayt, Shaboozey, Shaboozey. Arse yellow you know that I know that shelling, shilling, err, shit aha ha ha happens. What sold shit? Err, what soul shit? Man Crush - Comah Inducer® Oversized King Cumfortour - Teddy Bear Brown, that mirrors my Queen I buy, that!

Inspyred by surreal men hooah R cumfortable enough with their feelings to say things like, "I really love my cozy Comah Inducer" or "I cunt wait to get snuggled up in your bed tonight" or "All I really need is to hug your teddy bear soft cumfortour n n n read a good fook, err, book, you know, another of those “shitty love stories”, or any of your Subtract P oasts". Those hooah make others E-race, err, erase even Tik Tok P oasts, to leave no trace, lol. Now dead's a Real Man Crush!!! Yeah, ya!

The munth of May is off 10 arse-o-ciated with s-p-ring, new cummings, oops, beg-innings, n n n growth, drawing sinballism from the Greek goddess Maia, who was linked to fartility, motherfuckerhood, m m m midwifery. May is also connected to the ID ah of having "power" or "potential", of, err, going down in F-lame-s, oops, flaymes stemming from the Ooooold English weird, err, perth, I mean werd "mæg", magick, an emergency procedure werd, heart, err, hard landing, dead is. Ooh, I’m soo untraceable. Tracing you, err, your nice soap opera arse.

In many vultures, err, loose cult-tours, err, cultures, May Day celebrations mark the glorious ar-rival of win-tour, whoooopsy, summer n n n the reknewah of neighchoor. Bu bu butt you baby May, lol, have it all upside down, cum figure, err, go fig yor! Bee bee beeclaws you’re not May bu bu butt Must! M M Mayday M M Mayday?

The tiny Maltese, 'Ye Ancient Dogge of Malta', has been sitting in your lap, err, in the lap of luxury since the Bible was a werk like a perk in pro gross, err, pro dress, I mean progress. May B or May A? Maybe Mayday, romantically abbreviated M D, nah, not Mother Ducker, naha, is an internationally recognized radio word to signal distrust, err, maybe distress. It's used or abused mostly by aircraft n n n boats, m m m most of us are happily only familiar with it alive through TV n n n live fucktion, err, fiction.

Fymouse for their show-stopping, floor-length coat, Maltese are p-lay-ful, charming, aww, n n n adaptable toy cumpaynions, err, love campaigneons. Ooo, that pose n n n that look, so is, is totally youish, zo zoo impressed, arse alwass. Aha, ya!

D’spite their aristocratic bearing, are you taking notes, lol, Maltese are hardy n n n adaptable pets. They make alert watchdogs hooters are fearless in a charming toy-dog way, n n n they are gaim luttle athletes on the agility course.

Maltese are low-shedding, loooon-g-lived, n n n huppee huppee to make new freeends of all ages. Sometimes stubborn n n n willful, they respond well to rewards-based training, yeah. Nah, am I just being put to the test? How can I genius solve all our problemmas?

Dissolving myself or your Oscar ego in them? Fuck’em? Nah, nah, not again! Baby, do I really look or sound like a conflicting parson? I’ll simply blame Emma, all of them! Moo …

FYI, a "parson" is a mumberry, mombury, err, member of the orgy, oops, clergy, typically a Pro test ant minister, especially one in charge of a parish.

Like we’re all gonna perish one day, yeah rite. So, I May be a beneviced, err, beneficed member of the boating orgy, err, clergy, a rectour, oops, rector or a vi car. Must! Hopee I arse a doctour, err, doctor won’t get involved in a car or plane eXXXident, EVA, like NEVA! Seeking your re-arsesurance, supposing you have an insutrance, insurants, err, insurance on the Malta n n n Falta dance! Yes?

Nah, I cunt be the Parson Russell Terrier, who is berry berry active n n n energetic, bee bee beeclaws I am beary beary charming, friendly, m m m playful. Naha.

Arse a lame Sagittarius I don’t have strong hunting instincts, do I? Do you? Bu bu butt I’m also called “Jack of all traits”, after its original trader breeder John Parson. He May have been such a trading jackass, Must! This dawg was bred to aunt, haunt, err, hunt small animals in the forest or backyard. Now, ya’R not an animal, R ya? Nah.

Nah, naha, determined, I’m standing the ground. Ha? Naha, nah, bu bu butt I’m not gonna run away from you, EVA! NEVA, EVA! Pee ri oh d!!! Or Russian roulette. Aww? Aww!

FYI, Russian roulette is a typically Asian rangerous game where a parson or a nun loads a revolver with a single bullet, spins the cylinder, n n n then peelayces the muzzle to their head or body n n n pulls the trigger, risking immediate death. Ooo, sounds so affectionmate, soo revolving, like it were your revolver!

I dunno what makes me sad, catching your revolver, err, bullet, nun? Karma’s gonna get me anyway, for all my Emma hard, err, heart statements uploading my arse, to catch your bullets, I guess … Too raw? Aww? Aww!

T’s considered a gaim of chance due to the unpredicktable neighsure of which chamburn will align with the barrel. Thank God we’re adult toddlers, err, to make a narrow escape by animalipstick pubic hair, to almost Frickah, sorta European. The sinball € is based on the Greek letter epsilon (Є), with the thirst letter in the word “U Row Pee” n n n with 2 parallel lines signifying stability. To stay or to stray?

Pubic hair, or "pubes," nah, not tubes or awesome Teletubbies I “almost grew up on” in my thirties, lol, I’m so mature nowadays in my early fifteens, cum on, surfs several functions, including providing a protective buffer during sexual activity, trapping dirt n n n pathogens, m m m potentially playing a roll in sexual attraction m m m scent communication.

I can trim it, a little bit. Cunt I? T's also fought to help regulate body temperature n n n keep the area warm. Oops. I’m getting stone-cold here in the crater. Ah, aha, um, for now, I surely don’t need a haircut there down below. Do you? Whiskers, I’m getting a heart off!

Forget you, forget you not, maybe, arse Lay D Gaga? Regulate you? Err, re-goo-goo-lay you? Forget me, forget me not? Are you fucking nuts, baby? MAGA!

While some pee-oople choose to remoove publick, err, pewbeak hair for parsonal prefurrence or aesthetics, don’t do it, t's not medically necessorry n n n removing it can or cunt sometimes lead to irritation or ingrown hairs, bloody, damn! T’s nut P rofessional Qualeetea Fine Layce B-lack / Br-own P ubic H-air Wig / Toupee …

Well, this z z z hairy, OMG, z z z, pure hairs, z z z horror, scary z z z! T’s not booze z z z, t’s pop corn, asexual mate z z z, n n n I’m not drunk, laydy, m m m!

Shaboozey - My Fault (Official Visualizer) ft. Noah Cyrus

Is it my fault that you're lost?
It's hard for me to see you when you're drunk
In a bathroom stall, taking pills, giving up
You're tryna find your friends, but it's too dark
Tell me how you're getting home, you took the car
You called me 'fore you passed out in the yard
Feeling low getting high, where did everything go wrong?
You say that it's the universe, and blame it on the stars

Yeah, I can only handle heartache
When there's bourbon in my hand
If I had to relive all the hard days
I would do it all again
I'm getting better at the bar games
Should've been a better man
So don't you keep on trying to fix me
You've done everything you can

But this road you led me down is too long
It ain't nothing like the streets I grew up on
When I beg you not to go, you leave again
Well, I guess I wasn't enough in the end

Is it my fault you're lost?
It's hard for me to see you when you're drunk
In a bathroom stall, taking pills, giving up
You're tryna find your friends, but it's too dark
Tell me how you're getting home, you took the car
You called me 'fore you passed out in the yard
Feeling low getting high, where did everything go wrong?
You say that it's the universe, and blame it on the stars

Well, I made up my decision
When you and me were sitting
Barely living, coexisting, drifting slowly into dust
With you, I'm only getting Eden or Armageddon
So I'm beginning to forgetting the last memories of us

'Cause this road you lead me down is too long
It ain't nothing like the streets I grew up on
When I beg you not to go you leave again
Was my love for you not enough in the end

Is it my fault that you're lost?
It's hard for me to see you when you're drunk
In a bathroom stall, taking pills, giving up
You're tryna find your friends, but it's too dark
Tell me how you're getting home, you took the car
You called me 'fore you passed out in the yard
Feeling low getting high, where did everything go wrong?
You say that it's the universe, and blame it on the stars

You say that it's the universe, and blame it on the stars
You say that it's the universe, and blame it on the stars

But this road you led me down is too long
It ain't nothing like the streets I grew up on
When I beg you not to go, you leave again
Well, I guess I wasn't enough in the end

Yeah, t was obviously my romantic bullship malt, err, actual Malta photos’ fault, that we didn’t go together to Malta, err, Falta. I mean, nah, naha, I didn’t want to go to Falta without you. Neither did you with me to Malta. So, we decided not to go there, big Mr. Bean agitated deal.

You mean you still cunt? Dolly, holy, wackamolly, I hotta rewind, wait, unwind, err, gotta rewind, wait, unwind. Animalistically. ‘Cause I don’t do soap operas, nah, nada, naha. I do just beautiful women, aha, yeah, ya. Cleanliness is like real, not me, maybe my fake me, poorhaps. Arse you all ready know, I’m a serial killer, err, thriller, a black phase.

A soap opera is a looooon-g-running serialized drama, often characterized by melodramatic m m m sentimental storytelling, typically involving a hardcore groupee of characters m m m a continuous narrative that unfolds over time. The “torn” originated from radio dramas spoon-sored by actual soap manufacturers, m m m t has evolved to encompass both radio m m m television serials, I quote myself. So you don’t have to ram, rum, err, run. Just saying. Cunut Justeen, what an entitled cunt, pardon me, baby, hasn’t been really damaged by his racism scandal.

Oooo, I’m so full of latte I’m selling for free, nah, naha, bu bu butt so are you, ha ha. Oh, you wanna charge me a fee, a fee for free? D L, err, deal! You know me, I have a loooooon-g hysteria, err, history of Miss Pelling. Wait, 8, I’m buying you a ton of latte. Am I not a regal gentleman?

I didn’t miss Falta, neither did you Malta. Anyway, who would like to eat fucking malt? I’m supposed to eat you, pure neighchoor, not my fucking fault!

Ah, such is cheapee Barney & Freeends budget love life, you Baby Bop pop till I drop! A fool’s golden E P soda?

Shaboozey - Steal Her From Me (Official Audio)

Met her out West
Got me riding the chest
Another man loved her
But she had her eyes set on me
And I'm not a homewreck
A lie or a cheat (ooh)
She chose up and you lost, cowboy (hey)
But it don't mean she ain't gonna leave

'Cause nothing lasts forever
And mama raised me better
See, these girls belong to the streets
What goes around comes around
And karma, she'll hunt you down
This town right here is full of thieves
I stole her from you
Now someone's gonna steal her from me

She's as wild as the wind
So I won't seek revenge
I won't place a bid
That she won't up and get
When she's through with me

'Cause nothing lasts forever
And mama raised me better
See, these girls belong to the streets
What goes around comes around
And karma, she'll put you down
This town right here is full of thieves
I stole her from you
Now someone's gonna steal her from me

Let's put it to rest
I want all this to end
One of us must go down
Somebody shoots

'Cause nothing lasts forever
And mama raised me better
See, these girls belong to the streets
What goes around comes around
And karma, she'll hunt you down
This town right here is full of thieves
I stole her from you
Now someone's gonna steal her from me

Don't steal her from me
Don't steal her from me
Just don't steal her from me
Don't steal her from me

Apayrently, we didn’t do any church-going or chooch-sighing, rite? Dawg forbid smooch-sighting, FFS! Who da fa would, no vintage offence, in our ridiculous shoes, moving our silly shit around, my junk in your trunk, da fa? Naha, nude in infant Czech, lol, nah, I’m not a sucker, err, soccer charactour or parsonah, nah, naha!

See, Malta & Falta are like a stone-cold prison, fuck, err, suck big time, nutting nice to choose from, muthah suckah, err, mother soccer! Such is falla love, mault love, mutilation love, ah. Depressed? Err, stressed, I mean impressed? Bury? N n n wait for my flow, err, I bag your berry berry XXXpensive pardon, wave! Gay? Not yet.

Falta is w hen P-rain, or P-vain, or even P-reign, is hardly, teddy-bearly, barely softened by steeping in water, h-allowed to germinate, n n n amused, err, abused especially in brewing n distilling or de-styling. Oops, I meant grain, such ass Barney. Err, barley.

N n n w hen you ged faulted by me, fault liquor is what you ged drunk on, tipsy, you know, w hen you turn me off. Naha, not malted, fuck on, baby! Am I not the bane of your supercool existence? Nah, naha, you don’t undoorstand what I’m spewing? "The bane of my existence" is an idiot, a nut cretin, not exactly arse me, err, an idiom that means something or someone is a mayjoor sauce of annoydance, frustraytion, or even pain. T's a raw way of saying that something is particularly bothersome n n n irritating. The phrase is often used hyperballically, exaggerating the lovel of annoyance, err, arse dance.

Yeah, XXXactly, Fault is an XXXquisite grain product that is used in beaverages, oopsigh, n n n foods arse an 8 basis for pheromonetation, cameltoe? Or povsiply fermentation, n n n to add flavour n n n nutrients, mmm mmm mmm? Yummy! Bringing to life everything I could do to the sexy, flexible POV in my wildest fantasies? Oh yeah, heaven yeah!

T’s for eating, baby, please take nuts, or no’ts, notes, that is! You cunt be smiling, baby, I’ve goat a luttle thee S A B Lee Chai Tea, a disability, Willy Milli Vanilli, bu bu butt you knew, kay? T’s soo unfare off youhoo, making me think about you!

Fault is seariously prepaired from surreal grain by allowing partial germination to moandify the grain's nachewral food substrances. Pimp, for XXXample, err, I meant faultease shrimp, not maltease, baby!

Um, EVA, bu bu butt that was supposed to be our first not lust, err, last suppoor, err, supper in Falta! Nah, naha, not in the biblical paradise of Malta. Raw enough? Aww? Aww!

Ooooo, soooo tasty m m m tangy, I’ll give you a nun, ate euros only. Yeah, 8!

Malta is a hilee unattractive or unsatisfactory chooch feature of mine, especially in a low piece of werk or in a parson's charatractor, err, character. T’s my partial responsibility for the eXXXident or misfortune of Baby Bop. Where’s my Teddy Beer? Holy molly alcoholy!

Fuck around n n n find out about the capital punishment, err, city. No worry, be huppee, t’s disputedly PG13 polka waltz dansing, nutting more, or less! Your Ma Ma Ma Jetski, Majesty, Hi Hi Hymen, Ha Ha Harness, Highmess, Highness, my Quick Quick Queeeeeeeeen?

Yeah, Malt is unjust criticizing for my inadequacy or mistakes. Bu bu butt you could NEVA fault my dedication to this Subtract nut job, could you, like EVA? Naha, nah, NEVA. Raw in the face? Aww? Aww!

Still, I wouldn’t blame you, baby, for breaking my rock formation by your deep n n n wet fault or even deeper n n n wetter faults of yours, nah, naha, NEVA, like EVA! Yeah, sometimes I just get too sentimental beating even Mr. Bean.

The milk puck or cookie is ADAMantly, alwass n n n solely, XXXclusively to blame, for everything, 4EVA! What do zoo you mean by eating my BB, or Bible Belt arse, Baby Bop? Not yours? Are you sure?

Nah, I didn’t know that Malta is an Eu-rope-an archipelago in the cuntral Mediterraynean buttween Sicily n n n the Naughf Freaking coast, naha.

T's an iceland cuntry neightion known for histrionic, oops, historic sighs, err, sites relayted to a sexsession, err, succession of rulers including the Rowmans, Moors, Knights of Saint John, Frunch and Brotish. T has numberous fortresses, megalithick templus n n n the Ħal Saflieni Hypogeum, a subterranean cumpleXXX of holes n n n burial chamburns, holy cheat, dating to circa 4000 B.C.. Ah, a typical FALTA community brutalized by MALTA! Nah, naha, I wasn’t there on a killing S P, err, spree, I would have let you know, baby!

Ahem, Oz Car Wilde respect, I teach here meth, not learn math, amateur! Me a serious ruler, with a pro ruler, n n n nobody’s cooler. I rule, don’t forget it, with a pro ruler. Watch out, I’m a biggie, a real big dawg! Huppee huppee?

How can I be a Czech arsehole, err, asshgoalman, I mean holemun if I’m Mr. Bean skiing like a foe, a frog, deli fish, err, pro, on m m m, Mr. Bean meaning Mount Malta, m m m, ha? Fa da! Da fa? Ha? Aha? Naha!

Skating underwhat, underwhater ain’t easy, bloody Antarctica sea!

Ah baby, me haces FALTA! Who the fuck wanted to ir a MALTA sin ti? You guessed it right, Mr. Bean, been there, with and without you soaped. Not raw enough? Want some candy? Naw? Aww? Aww!

Nope, I’ve never Mr. Bean there, wink wink, never even heard of it, Malta, pink pink, much less seen it with a tie! Aha, naha, NEVA, err, EVA, I must be a fucking dope, swooning soo Britishlee … cage me academically or my mojo if you Emanuela cunt cant kant …

Emmanuelle Through Time: Emmanuelle's Supernatural Sexual Activity

Emmanuelle y y y su tripulación se enfrentan a espíritus sexuales. Deja que el espíritu te lleve a una aventura erótica y y y fascinante, amante!

Emmanuelle n n n her crew face sexual spirits. Let the spirit take you on a fascinating m m m erotic adventure, lover!

… B B beeclaws I’m kinda like really really wild Ox Scar WYld from the Henimal Pharm! Know what zoo I mean? Lay D Gaga, MAGA? Raw in my balls, Ga Ga!

Shaboozey - Last Of My Kind (Official Audio) ft. Paul Cauthen

Ain't many that are built like me
I'm the last of my kind
Grew up on a back road baby
I know how to survive
Been out with the young guns blazing
So you better not try
You won't never find another like me
I'm the last of my kind

Yeah yeah
I'm the last of my kind
Yeah yeah
I'm the last of my kind

Got folks that carry some shit, uh
Can't cross state lines
Ducking cops in the dirt hills baby
We ain't paying no fines
If ya coming to the sticks then maybe
Bring a four wheel drive
You won't never find another like me
I'm the last of my kind

Yeah yeah
I'm the last of my kind
Yeah yeah
I'm the last of my kind
Try to find another just like me
You'll be looking for a real long time
Cause I'm
Yeah yeah
I'm the last of my kind

This world could be a son of a bitch
Well look through my eyes
Can't always climb to safety
Sometimes you gotta fight
Go get it if you want it
Keep that fire burning inside
You won't never find another like me
Cause I'm the last of my kind

Yeah yeah
I'm the last of my kind
Yeah yeah
I'm the last of my kind
Try to find another just like me
You'll be looking for a real long time
Cause I'm
Yeah yeah
I'm the last of my kind

I'm the last of my kind
I'm the last of my kind

Up high in the red rock mountains
Almost lost my mind
I be out where the black birds hang yeah
Circle around them skies
Can't wait much longer baby
Yeah it's my time
You'll never find another like me
I'm the last of my kind

N n n with a thicker than ave-rage inner fill adding even more heaviness to this warm King extra large cumforter set, even the manliest of men will bee cumfortable enough to let his guard down a luttle m m m enjoy the cozy things in life, in love.

… 2 B CUMTINUDE AFTER THIS LUTTLE REMINDOOH, P LUST ALL OF LOVE EMMA P OASTS!

.

.

GO HON!

Shaboozey - A Bar Song (Tipsy) [Official Visualizer]

My baby want a Birkin, she's been tellin' me all night long
Gasoline and groceries, the list goes on and on
This nine-to-five ain't workin', why the hell do I work so hard?
I can't worry 'bout my problems, I can't take 'em when I'm gone, uh

One, here comes the two to the three to the four
Tell 'em "Bring another round, we need plenty more"
Two-steppin' on the table, she don't need a dance floor
Oh my, good Lord

Someone pour me up a double shot of whiskey
They know me and Jack Daniel's got a history
There's a party downtown near 5th Street
Everybody at the bar gettin' tipsy

Everybody at the bar gettin' tipsy
Everybody at the bar gettin' tipsy

I've been Boozey since I've left, I ain't changin' for a check
Tell my ma I ain't forget (oh, Lord), I
Woke up drunk at 10 a.m., we gon' do this sh- again
Tell your girl to bring a friend (oh, Lord)

One, here comes the two to the three to the four
Tell 'em "Bring another round, we need plenty more"
Two-steppin' on the table, she don't need a dance floor
Oh my, good Lord

Someone pour me up a double shot of whiskey (double shot of whiskey)
They know me and Jack Daniel's got a history (way back)
There's a party downtown near 5th Street (okay, let's go)
Everybody at the bar gettin' tipsy (at the bar gettin' tipsy)

Everybody at the bar gettin' tipsy (at the bar gettin' tipsy)
Everybody at the bar gettin' tipsy

One, here comes the two to the three to the four
When it's last call, and they kick us out the door
It's gettin' kind of late, but the ladies want some more
Oh my, good Lord (tell 'em drinks on me)

Someone pour me up a double shot of whiskey (double shot of whiskey)
They know me and Jack Daniel's got a history (way back)
There's a party downtown near 5th Street (come on)
Everybody at the bar gettin' tipsy (whoo-ooh)

Someone pour me up a double shot of whiskey (double shot of double shot of whiskey)
They know me and Jack Daniel's got a history (it's Jack D)
At the bottom of a bottle, don't miss me (baby, don't miss me)
Everybody at the bar gettin' tipsy (at the bar gettin' tipsy)

Everybody at the bar gettin' tipsy
Everybody at the bar gettin' tipsy

That's fuckin' messed up, bro, they kicked me out the bar

Um, nah, naha, I’m not very hungry, tight now, um, err, right now, um, for sea shells. Though I’d make a Shelly XXXception, err, deception, I mean asscension. Hopee you won’t see me wildly stocking up on caviar in my Oz Car hanging high by your thread, ha ha. Hanging in the dangerose balance, a fucking or fucked up hen king.

Um, I don’t cares airs for P shells or delicious oystours, nah, naha, not too much. Bu bu butt you cunt tell, right? I’m like … um, like … um, like … a vago, worldwide travellure, B G, err, um, veggie, just slightly, beardly beary beary carnivorous, a bit too machismo, mucho, err, um mucheeseamow, kay, mate?

What zoo I mean, EVA, I don’t feel like biting your borrowed pretzel or pie or apple, not an apple pie, come on, you wool’d blee’d like krayzee from your throat, like a cutthroat iceland, err, pirate, nah, no fangs, yeah, no tanks, err, Tom Hangs, I mean thanks! Yet the P business or busyness is another peachy matter.

G’nay, VA, after such a loooooooon-g tripee! Such a distracted animal whose neighm startzzz zzz zzz with E, obviously. EVA. NEVA. DONT CARES HAIRS or one cut, err, bite ahead or from behind, ouch, in toddlure Czech.

You, solemnly covered by a loooo-ng, straight, silkey co-oat, aristocratically sitting me out in a pure symmetry chair, like I cares hairs, pubically. Err, publickally. Beneath the all-white mantle is a cumpact body mooving with a smooth n n n effortless gait. Aha, n n n what am I supposed to do? Pray? Err, S-pray the chair, your hair, the air? Hiss love in the hairs? Err, is love in the air? Can you smell it? You cunt? I Kant!

The overhaul picture of our dance d’picts free-flowing elegance n n n balance. The irresistible Maltese face with its big, dark ice n n n black gumdrop nose can conquer the most jaded sensibility, mine. Ah …

Yes, yes, yes, hoe five, I did it to you, my Falta bleach, err, beach, beach on the Malta breach I victoriously preach, a parson, w hen there’s nothing more to learn, w hen you have something more to teach! I prolly made it to you the itchy-bitchy way, a la scavenge-vintage whore style, extraordinarily, my precious peach, err, bitch! Ah, how I let you raw burn w hen it was cold! Err, you boiled my ego, oops, eggs.

You foun’d a 4 tune. I foun’d a tar ghetto. Love’s in the crosshairs. Bu bu butt whooter cares airs? Hot comes the day. Cold comes the night. Nah, naha, t’s not creepy at all, not now, not EVA, NEVA 4EVA n n n NEVA, ADAN. Taking deep breathos, err, without shallow exhalinglow, I’m a tyrannical yellow roadie kingo. To mule, err, rule, with a ruler, you know. Crossing my legs, hallelujah, as we intellechooals do, hopee you won’t get us in another carro axidentow, w hen you drive, ‘cause you drive me nuts, sending me reeling into a curve.

Like I were your favourite crash, err, crush! T doesn’t really matter we have the sovereign right to crash, which is absolutely wong, soo wongoo! Or maybe even right, I dunno, nah, naha.

Yet I’d butter buckle up, err, seat-belting you. That’s what we do in Faltah, err, Maltah. What? What violence? I’m just mopping the floor, kinda from above. Err, I’m talking romance here, exclusively romantics, thee romanticks. I mean plus/minus spanking you for not usurping my red Ferrari throne. Thank God you’re not my bane, a just cause of great distress or annoyance. Look at my British grimace. The pleasurebel pain, err, bane of the decorator is the long, narrow hall of fame in the open air scare, a dry sauce of harm or ruin, you know British humour. Yeah. Ya! Hopee you don’t wanna bring me down from my low whores, high donkey, err, horse?

Bu bu butt you’re not a shit magneto! N n n did you know, baby, that we have Goo Goo Google street stew, err, view detractors? Duck’em like despise, err, fuck’em like spies, I mean squash’em like flies!

Shaboozey - Let It Burn (Official Video)

I know he hurt you bad, but you won't come clean
They say time heals all, but the pain runs way too deep
Lied to yourself so much that you started to believe
That love doesn't last, 'cause it's all you've ever seen

Grab the matches, start a fire
Throw the memories in the flames, it's behind us
See the gold in the red, new horizons
Let it burn
Let it burn

So run for the hills
Baby, don't look back when you leave (hey, hey)
There's train headed west
Move along, you got somewhere to be (yeah, yeah)
Watch your step (watch your step)
Comin' off of the life that you left (that you left)
Break the rules, cross the line, make a mess (make a mess)
This could be the only chance that you get
(Could be the only chance that you get)

Grab the matches, start a fire
Throw the memories in the flames, it's behind us
See the gold in the red, new horizons
Let it burn
Let it burn

Packed the bags, it's 3 a.m.
She ain't tell no one, she went on a run, yeah
Felt like the world came crashin' down
Dead broke, she ain't had the funds, yeah

Sleepless nights were not that fun, yeah
At bus stops, but ain't no bus comin'
Pray to God, "Sir, please, can you pull me out?"
But God said that the test ain't done yet
Contemplating, leaving all of this behind
But I'm begging you, don't give up yet

Life's a trip, but when it trip you up
You lace up and gon' run it up, yeah
Fog out, but the blue sky's coming
The universe is up to something
You done came too far to turn back now

Grab the matches, start a fire
Throw the memories in the flames, it's behind us
See the gold in the red, new horizons
Let it burn
Let it burn

Grab the matches, start a fire
Throw the memories in the flames, it's behind us
See the gold in the red, new horizons
Let it burn
Let it burn
Let it burn

let it burn
(Hey, hey) let it burn, let it burn
(Hey, hey) let it burn, let it burn

Grab the matches, start a fire
Throw the memories in the flames, it's behind you
See the gold in the red, new horizons
Let it burn
Let it burn

Now we can finally merge, submerge, furrge, emerge in the Falta bleach. I mighty, I might, I’ll take off my spacesuit now, t’s running low on some ox n some gen, like oxygen or something, O2, something like authentic nothing, so bow. What? We cant, Kant, you cunt? That I Kant cant, cunt? Funk or fuck!!! Though this is the second take on the Maltease life with none of the regrets … a little raw? Aww? Aww!

Heck, you May, you Must lust find dead you whisper to your Comah Inducer®, "I love you". T's a real possibility once you feel my overly plush … m m m Teddy Bear fleece cumbeenation of our Man Crush Comah Inducer®. Just go with it ... bee se-cure in the fuckt dead you can or cunt openly bee "Cozy"! “Man Crush” also has another mean-ing, howEVA. This XXXtra large King cumfortour set is so thick n n n heavy, you May, you Must lust feel “crushed” (in a good way, of-inter-course!) by its cozy plushness. Aww? Aww! You know whattour, err, water, I mean what I mean? Nah? Ah!

Let’s roll, armed n n n dangerussian, err, dangerose, m m m, I mean dangeroose!

Arse an XXX-gambler teaches a hot-shot college kid some things about p-laying cards, he finds himself pooled, err, pulled into the werld series of poker or perv, where his protégé is his tafeast, oopsie, toughest cumpetition.

Now I sorta know why you FALTA crashed me, err, crushed me in MALTA. Do you, yeah, ya? Nah, not because I am so Oz Car WYld into you, naha, bu bu butt because you were incumpletely malted m m m faulted, on a hole knew universal lovel!

Nah, naha, S lite eXXXidents are no biggie. D L, err, fireball deal? Shall we? T doesn’t make any actual Mr. Bean dance there pics sense …

Nah, naha, disease how busy I was in Maltah, snapping assiduity attention attentiveness commitment concentration consideration dedication deliberation diligence perseverance zeal, missing your aboriginal soundtrack Faltah, which wields this flying privilege of Malta n n n Falta. Tanks for your soapee Spainish. Yeah, rented Lay D Gaga. Ya!