Before I say I love you,
There's something I must know,
What is that rancid stench,
That wafts from down below
Like plastic on the griddle,
And eggs left far too long,
My darling I must say,
Your cunt smells fucking wrong
Put it back,
Lock it away,
It's like a petrol station,
On a rainy day
The stench is so vile,
It just isn't fair,
It's like a scene,
From my sexual nightmares
Your Blue Waffle,
I shed a tear,
As I grit my teeth,
And swallow my fear,
Petrol hanger,
A fucking disgrace,
As its brought down low,
And pressed into my face
Decaying before my eyes,
Like spam left in the sun,
The thought of ploughing you,
Is no longer so much fun
As I start to turn away,
Sun rising in the east,
I see your boils of pus,
Are festooned with yeast
What is that thing,
What does it do,
Why does it spurt,
With all hues of blue,
The stench is so vile,
It just isn't fair,
It's like a scene,
From my sexual nightmares
Your Blue Waffle,
I shed a tear,
When I grit my teeth,
And swallow my fear,
Petrol hanger,
A fucking disgrace,
When it's brought down low,
And pressed into my face.
