Call me the Hulk when I smash it

F*CK BETTY CROCKER.

This is just a change of pace-
A taste of a razor blade-
Coated with cocaine;
Syringe of meth straight to the brain,
Are my metaphors good enough to explain-
The never ending chain of stains-
That grow as we get older?
Polar bears don't have S**T on my coldness.
Peg a b***h in the head with a can of Sierra Mist-
And tell her to kiss my dick.
No, I will not fornicate unless you're dressed like a maid-
And into whips and chains,
And calling super hero names,
And if you are call me the Hulk when I smash it.
I'm just a ghost waiting to f*****g vanish.
Panic at the Disco-
I'm having thumbtacks for snacks-
Spitting em out in the face of enemies who wanna mash.
Burn em like the grass of potheads.
Have em covered in more fluids than w****s on motel beds.
AND F**K BETTY CROCKER!!!
I got my own recipe for making cake-
It involves a monkey wrench and a rich dude's face.
Also a lake and a couple dark fantasies.
NO. I'm perfectly sane- in college I took classes for the humanities.