Snot is running down his nose, greasy fingers, smearing shabby clothes.
I came across Mother Goose, so I turned her loose, she was screaming.
Be sure to leave your underpants with someone you can trust.
The excrement bubbles, the century slime decays, and the brainwashing government lackeys would have us say it's under control.
She's a warm fart at Christmas.
God of ages, Lord of Time, mine is the right to be wrong.