Bottom-feeding, well-washing, mud people of a brand not known but often conjured in dark tunnels and cloudy minds. Undeniably scary. And a bit intolerable. Because they smell bad.
It’s amazing what happens when people don’t get their way. They’re willing to tank everything! Just like little kids who kick over the game board when they’re losing…so are the Republicans kicking over the country in a fit of tantrum. They need a time out for a few terms.
No such thing as contain for me i break what i touch its no
thing for me opposition i crush 1 bang fa 3 birds in a bush slain
talk is cheap so when you see the cock’s back Means Ima bang for
free slow flow to me there’s no such thang as speed cuz were i go,
no body can hang wit me toe 2 toe, Im jugganaut there’s no slowin
me so if you see the tank comin you better go for my load blows and
you lose ya face cousin
The tank was the main weapon that the general sought to deploy in the quest to eradicate his enemies. However, there was one problem. The tank had not been seen by anyone in a number of days. The soldier in charge of driving this tank was none other than the notorious Gunner Arnold.
They kept driving by. One after the other, a somber procession reminding us what was happening elsewhere. Reminding us that forgetting your phone or missing out on last nights party is not really a big deal.
Tank was a cat. A very big cat, owned by my sister and fed by her in the fashion that our mother fed us. Basically anything we wanted, without regard to the girth of our bellies. For most of us, it was unhealthy and we pay the price as adults, whether it be through disease or the extra charge for Extra Large. Tank got caught laying in a driveway, resting his tired bones. Invisible to the car that ran over him.
The tank barreled through the street, and there was no one there to see it. There was silence and stars, silence and stars all around, and the heat of the night, but there was no one there to feel it.
She’d failed. Sitting in this tank was her punishment. It was a glass cylinder that slowly filled with water. Soon it would be over her head. She took a breath. She couldn’t.
Got the jitters. Pushing myself here. “Change is good,” rambles inside me head. But there’s always a smidge of doubt left over, clanking it’s way through my daily routine. Only time will tell.
He was tanking up. Three beers in half an hour was nothing special. Usually through a funnel. Guess, that’s what gave him his nickname: The tank. There was no party where he weren’t filling himslef up like a waggon.
He walked through the cafeteria.
Nothing was going to stop him in his path.
He had had enough of Hal,
The School Bully,
And was read to teach him a lesson.
His hulking form was primed for target,
And then he saw the tears,
And all hate was forgotten.
Tank! oh gosh the first thing that comes to mind when i see this word is this one guy i hooked up with in college! ugh the worst. STANDARDS PEOPLE STANDARDS! HAVE SOME!
bomb, war, death, sadness.
Bottom-feeding, well-washing, mud people of a brand not known but often conjured in dark tunnels and cloudy minds. Undeniably scary. And a bit intolerable. Because they smell bad.
It’s amazing what happens when people don’t get their way. They’re willing to tank everything! Just like little kids who kick over the game board when they’re losing…so are the Republicans kicking over the country in a fit of tantrum. They need a time out for a few terms.
No such thing as contain for me i break what i touch its no
thing for me opposition i crush 1 bang fa 3 birds in a bush slain
talk is cheap so when you see the cock’s back Means Ima bang for
free slow flow to me there’s no such thang as speed cuz were i go,
no body can hang wit me toe 2 toe, Im jugganaut there’s no slowin
me so if you see the tank comin you better go for my load blows and
you lose ya face cousin
The tank was the main weapon that the general sought to deploy in the quest to eradicate his enemies. However, there was one problem. The tank had not been seen by anyone in a number of days. The soldier in charge of driving this tank was none other than the notorious Gunner Arnold.
They kept driving by. One after the other, a somber procession reminding us what was happening elsewhere. Reminding us that forgetting your phone or missing out on last nights party is not really a big deal.
i am always on your side
that hasn’t changed
i just don’t know what to do
not that the war
is within you.
Tank was a cat. A very big cat, owned by my sister and fed by her in the fashion that our mother fed us. Basically anything we wanted, without regard to the girth of our bellies. For most of us, it was unhealthy and we pay the price as adults, whether it be through disease or the extra charge for Extra Large. Tank got caught laying in a driveway, resting his tired bones. Invisible to the car that ran over him.
The tank barreled through the street, and there was no one there to see it. There was silence and stars, silence and stars all around, and the heat of the night, but there was no one there to feel it.
She’d failed. Sitting in this tank was her punishment. It was a glass cylinder that slowly filled with water. Soon it would be over her head. She took a breath. She couldn’t.
Got the jitters. Pushing myself here. “Change is good,” rambles inside me head. But there’s always a smidge of doubt left over, clanking it’s way through my daily routine. Only time will tell.
He was tanking up. Three beers in half an hour was nothing special. Usually through a funnel. Guess, that’s what gave him his nickname: The tank. There was no party where he weren’t filling himslef up like a waggon.
He walked through the cafeteria.
Nothing was going to stop him in his path.
He had had enough of Hal,
The School Bully,
And was read to teach him a lesson.
His hulking form was primed for target,
And then he saw the tears,
And all hate was forgotten.
Tank! oh gosh the first thing that comes to mind when i see this word is this one guy i hooked up with in college! ugh the worst. STANDARDS PEOPLE STANDARDS! HAVE SOME!