Deleterio Motilis - WHY?

After I say I’ll **** you in the bathroom

Of the pizza by slice place

It’s not fair for me to ask

What kinda wife you might make

Forbidding you to smoke

Like the fascist butt of a joke

That is poor practice for opening

The heart to a possible start

Right?

Horn-rimmed Napoleon only in for the week

On high over the breach, in a speech

He’s been preaching since he’s been alive

Jeez, nasty little man

So fast to show his hand

To any last bastard who’s ass is in pants

The man’s manners, mild, like winters in the South

Rather odd, he might inquire if he can finish in your mouth

Sex-starved, wrecked, scarred, flesh marred, but best part

Never bent bars hold men far from fresh start (No)

At dawn, with Hilton pen, he feels he’ll fall hard

Yes, in bed the bard tends to pretend he’s all heart