Whatever Tickles Your Pickle

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Whatever tickles your pickle
As Grandpa used to say
I hate to see you go
But I love to watch you walk away
Let me show you a trick with a hole in it
But I don’t think he was talking about prostitution
Let us have a drink, I’ll explain
Perhaps we’ll come to a mutual resolution

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I Love To Wear Chucks

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I love to wear Chucks
But I don’t like to converse
A quiet, unassuming soul
Though secretly a tad perverse
I may look innocent enough
Or unmemorable altogether
But I can create feelings
That’ll cure your stormy weather
But you’re a pawn of society
You want that rich, flashy guy
But money won’t buy you orgasms
Too late; you already let me pass by

Drinking Out Of The Good Crystal

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Drinking out of the good crystal
Pouring another glass of Scotch
I’m not going to waste this life
I’m not going to stand by & watch
I want to get my hands dirty
Experience should be more than a page
I’m not going to live by proxy
I’m going die a virile man in my old age