It was a booty-fill day,
The bun-cheeks round.
She put the raiment (clothes) on;
They were tight things.
Her cheeks were spry--
Hadn't fallen, sinkin'.
Put those buns away;
It was a tight cling.

Yeah, rump is bound in jeans;
That nether region ain't free.
Hurtin' and it's blistery;
Groin's getting a fabric knead.
Vised rump is bound in jeans.

It felt no good,
Like skin was seam-embossable
The slit-cooze in hold;
They rubbed the thighs.
The ass feels frayed,
The pain is unstoppable.
It's like awling hole. . .
Poke-bun tine.

Yeah, rump is bound in jeans;
That nether region ain't free.
Cursèd haberdashery!
Groin feels like it's gettin' kneed.
Vised rump is bound in jeans.

They'd rolled on;
Now they must depart,
But she can't pull 'em down
Like snake-molt time.
This isn't good;
Fate will keep her clothed
'cause they stick on tush
Like whiteface on mime.

Yeah, rump is bound in jeans;
That nether region ain't free.
Cursèd fashionista creeps!
Goin' for a gut deplete:
[re]Size rump. . .spout out lunch meat.

Puke, puke, puke, puke, puke, puke. . . .