I feel creative.  I am writing a song.

If I were a banana, and you were a carpenter, I’d hammer you in the morning, and let my peel fall off.

Ok.  Another try:

If I were a sculptor, but then again… no.  I’d sit on the roof and smoke a joint.

No?

Here we go:

On the road again, can’t wait to get on the road again.  On the road forever. Damn reindeer.

Let’s get serious.

I’m caught in a trap.  I can’t get out.  Because the mouse was here first, baby.

All right. I have it:

Oh oh here she comes, watch out boys she’ll chew you up.  Oh oh here she comes, she’s dieting, hungry and drunk as a skunk.

A better choice?

If I leave here tomorrow, will you still unfriend me?

On a more mature note:

Come on baby light my fire.  Girl we couldn’t get much higher.  Try me, you idiot.

I love the oldies. They were so sweet:

Little old lady got mutilated last night. Bananawolf of London again.  Ahoooooooooooooo.

One more?

Jingle balls, jingle balls, jingle all the way.  Hey, you goof! Your fly is open.

 

Wolf

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