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| e. e. cummings |
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| the boys i mean are not refined they go with girls who buck and bite they do not give a fuck for luck they hump them thirteen times a night one hangs a hat upon her tit one carves a cross in her behind they do not give a shit for wit the boys i mean are not refined the boys i mean are not refined they do not chat of that and this they do not give a fart for art they kill like you would take a piss they speak whatever´s on their mind they do whatever´s in their pants the boys i mean are not refined they shake the mountains when they dance |
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