Her legs went on forever, like staring at infinity through a wisp of cotton panty along a skin of satin sea.

She's a warm fart at Christmas.

To tell the truth, I'd scare me too.

I'll make love to you in all good places, under black mountains and open spaces.

She's a nice girl, but her bad girl's better.

I came across Mother Goose, so I turned her loose, she was screaming.

Too many temples where we could worship the beast.