Fuck! (It’s the weather that does it)

With fish belly legs and the stench of despair

It’s a fresh summer morn as the ghosts fill the square.

It’s a summers dress flowing with light summers breeze

It’s a wondrous sight, It’s a sight that will please.

But a bittersweet moment as trouts bump their gums,

They’re convinced that we stare at their tits and their bums.

I just lifted my gaze to remind me to breathe,

But the fat waste of space has a chip I believe.

Now it may be her shoulder that festers the doubt,

Or it could be the varicose veins or the gout.

But believe me when I say ‘i’de rather go blind’

Than to compliment chubby fat fucks from behind.