I fall upon the city street,
Abused by what's ponged anally.
And every breath I take appalls.
Now what in lunch for food had he?
No power to digest food--
Three squares. I fall; there's bum-stink air to recline me.

It was borne from bum chute. It's got a sent that's beefy.
He's always on a farting spree. Oh-no-o-o!

When crap-blows crawl, gas passed, I fall, crapéd. Air! Wish his pants were tight.
Can I can smell, a galling cow ain't dealt a whiff like this hole blight.
No flower exudes.
Stench fare. I fall; there's bum-stink air to recline me.

It was borne from bum chute. It's got a sent that's beefy.
He's always on a farting spree. Oh-no-o-o!

He should be fined, his hiss ain't sweet. Lend him a plug to mute the air.
His bum's slack, toots disgraceful blare; the tube could blow most anywhere.
Oh, why can't he regress fumes?

Beware! I fall; there's bum-stink air to recline me.

It was borne from bum chute. It's got a sent that's beefy.
He's always on a farting spree. Oh-no-o-o!