My Saturday Night Fever Turned into a Sunday Morning Rash-Holy Molar

My Saturday Night Fever Turned into a Sunday Morning Rash - Holy Molar I'm turned off. That repression bit's jazzercized my provocative thesis: Your a** is grass! In fact you're dead all ready, jerk off! Those mental mechanisms are just rusty cars traffic gridlocked in yourself-dazzling presumptuosness. Yawn! Isn't it just so weird? Fascinating. The more you ask the less I know. Ancient functions get reprogrammed. Tomorrow sex is just a stab for nostalgia and agendas for the future are just a twitch to rumble arousal hopes surpass audience attendance: The fees of ears for f**king.