
Originally Posted by
smoothtung
chris...
Displaced ay? Great - I’m potion still.
If I fell off - I’ll rise with pace, shape, like soda spills..
If you can’t rate my stake, my claim, as made.. your modem’s ill..
And wait, don’t dare equate my fate as fake, my motive’s will.
If dirty came an easy way, I’d reclaim; roll in filth.
I’d ‘force’ Chris a ‘Cheesy’ date, table drape em’ Yoda’s quilt.
He’d try to write harder but I greased ink, broke his quill.
He’s meek links, weak drinks, a dry harbor.. smokeless mill.