Meat's hung catabolic'ly.
Though your honey beats that thing
It's not getting hard and there's pain
In her left hand and your lazy schlong.
You used to lance her all night long,
There used to be meat venery,
There was spender love, a juicery.

Now it's a lame old schlong
But with a different feeling with libido gone,
It's a lame old schlong
But with a different feeling; you can't ring the gong.

Bent, no-mettle tool, not high.
One time you could love long,
A warmer guy.
Now you Jell-o be, not vaultingly,
Decliningly--used to be incliningly
Steep, that spear-like part; she'd touch, it would dart
Staying tumescent forever
Dangling? Breaking down never!

It's a lame old schlong, don't want to bare it.
It is not upward-leaning with libido gone.
It's a lame old schlong
(Limp as a lariat).
There's a diffident leaning with libido gone.

Precious memories of her lingerie on.
It was like a spear; she favored it long.
Now it's gone--
Cleft, an empty nest--
Was bonely, tumescent and quite happily spent.
And in your pants it was moving,
Your romance, it was grooving.

Now it's a lame old schlong
But with a different feeling with libido gone.
It's a lame old schlong
But with a different feeling; you can't ring the gong.
Can bare or bare it.
Now it's a lame old schlong
But with a different feeling with libido gone
(You break a sweat to raise it).
It's a lame old schlong. . . .