Boones Strawberry Hill. Such a classic. It's the weaker form in percentage, right? |
Boones, moon, no, it was noon. I'm such a fool. First, I'm immune to your drunkenness, Strawberry Hill; I assumed you were innocuous; now I adore your sweetness. I used to fancy Bud Light, the peculiar, acrimonious flavor That penetrated my palate, you were never quite fond of When you were commencing that first taste, it was a date, wasn't it? It was fate. But subsequently, out of nowhere, you absolutely adore its savor; With each passing sip, you are dreamy and thoughtless. I blather need you, rancorous Bud Light; You make me utterly bonkers, and I wanted you more With each passing glass. I stay away from you as you are wholly perilous. Boones, moon, no, it was noon... and now I sip on your sweetness Strawberry Hill, watching old re-runs not on the internet But on TV. Because I want to go back to the nineties, but I will conform With the eighties, please make me happy again... please! You're still so harmful even though you are the weaker form in percentage. Is there a problem? Yes, yes, there is a problem; why is this legal? It has to be illegal to be so congenial and presage. Why have I crawled back to this when I thought I was cured? That's obscure, I need a cure. I guess I have been plagued by genetic factors. On top of it all, now you are going to make me diabetic, You're so sweet-tempered, gee. Boone's, noon, moon? Where was I? Why daytime? When everyone can see your imperfections? Oh, it hurts! I can't move; I grow old... Boones at noon and soon to make me feel young and free; No more pains again because who cares at noon with Boones; cheers! Boones, moon, Noon!!! Fuck it, right; you're the weaker form in percentage. I'm such a fool... you're so cruel... |