Whatever Tickles Your Pickle


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


I Love To Wear Chucks


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


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