Petrolium Butt Piracy by Scott Simmons

Let's measure our shriveled hotdogs inside of a bathroom with a skylight.
We can also secretly set a course to the drunk star allegedly tinkling all over my face.

I'd probe Uranus anytime sailor even if you make me wear a mask like most people do.
Also why do you keep a vibrating wiretap in your head brain recording my thoughts?

Is it because you are actually an undersized alien from the 9th dimension of flaccid phalluses?
Or did you just fart on my hamster and then blamed it on the government?

Either way I'm always watching you through the hidden cameras in your underground grotto filled with supper sexy hand models that electromagnetically tell me the future in my wet dreams.

I'm onto you Big Bird!

Scott Simmons has been kicked out of many peoples attics after stalking them for months in between his day job at a sexual chorus line on the Vegas Strip that nobody attends anymore because he's too ugly for anyone to want to show up. Um not that Scott cares he's secure about himself despite how he cries alone in a pet carrier crate at night inside of his lead lined bunker.