Before I say I love you theres something I must know, What is that rancid stench that wafts from down below Like plastic on the griddle and eggs left far too long, My darling I must say your cunt smells fucking wrong Put it back lock it away, Its like a petrol station on a rainy day The stench is so vile it just isnt fair, Its like a scene from my sexual nightmares Your Blue Waffle I shed a tear, As I grit my teeth and swallow my fear, Petrol hanger a fucking disgrace, As its brought down low and pressed into my face Your Blue Waffle I shed a tear, As I grit my teeth and swallow my fear, Petrol hanger a fucking disgrace, As its brought down low and pressed into my face Decaying before my eyes like spam left in the sun, The thought of ploughing you is no longer so much fun As I start to turn away sun rising in the east, I see your boils of pus are festooned with yeast What is that thing what does it do, Why does it spurt with all hues of blue, The stench is so vile it just isnt fair, Its like a scene from my sexual nightmares
petrol, waffle, hanger, grit, stench