Venture to a mountain top, on the mountain with nowhere to stop, only way up is up, unless you want to be a clown rolling to his grave on the way down.
There’ll be lots of sounds, but no one hears it, because no one’s around.
Whispering breeze, blow in between her knees, oh and believe me, this wind doesn’t want a whiff, it’s gentle with its whispering kiss.
Wind chill looked upon from the windows sill, wondering if it has a chance to make it beyond the seal.
Seal worn, needs a bit more cock, like an early Jenny McCarthy, she needed more… chicken, so she could make noodle soup while cruizin’ down the street in a Poodle’d coup