Crude Samantha’s dark obscene song of fried brill, dated eggs and booiled cocks.

Well those men were certainly wtanted to be modern. As those eggs, you know? With the day printed. And they sing like the cock in his feathers gladrags ! Anyway, all the stories have been told. Something childish, isn’t it? Samantha, eating fried brilll, said that making love would be nice as a black garden party... She meant black not as night, because she needs the light outside. But darness inside. Like chocolate an coal and ink and night and rimmel when she cries. As choroid squeezing from eyes like lemon juice; daylight squeezes. As those eggs those men wanted to be modern. With their eggs with a day written on. With their cocks hard-boiled by lust like in the wine of a french broth! But Samantha stays wild and she bites sometimes.Cocks and brills.Fried brills. Boiled by desire cocks. She is somewhat obscene, doesn’t she? Harsh and horny! Foxy corny! Brothel of weird and none due dew: squirt! Oil from the brill. Juice from lemon.Money from men. Chroroid from squeezed eyes. Darkness from broken light bulb. Burned coal. Eyes? Rimmel river’ spring! So. Samantha isn’t only a pretty whore with black hair: She is wise.She doesn’t only knows that those men want to be moderne an blowjobs too. She knows the way they want to be modern and squeezing cocks is just amatter of facts. We drank stout. She ate fried brill.I hate a scotch egg. Life is evil when we dont eat. Even cock broth. I french wine.What a pity!