Thousand man sore

Pass me around.

Everybody hate you but they want some more.

Passed out, dead to the world, on the floor

You leave no room to open the door.

Now all you are is a f*****g w***e

Your lips are covered with the thousand man sore.

The apple of thier eyes, Till you start to bore.

Reviews

[Cassandra]

Strong. I like the brevity, emphasizes the brusque message. Kinda like a "wham, bam, thank-you mam" I especially liked the last line " the apple of their eyes until you start to bore". Isn't that how it always is with everything ? Nice job.