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.