Uncle Walter's Bad Romance Novel Covers

02/12/2012

On a warm summer's eve, on a plane bound for nowhere, I met up with a manwhore, we were both too tired to sleep

So we took turns comparin'
The he-pussies we were packin'
Then boredom overtook us, and he began to speak

He said, "He-bitch, I've made my life
Out of playin' women's organs
Knowin' where to put my twat-sicle
By the way they held their eyes
So if you don't mind my sayin'
I can see you're a sorry he-bitch
If you'll hand me that hot dog
I'll give you some advice"

So I handed him my bun
And he ate down my last bite
Then he bummed a cigarette
And asked me for a light
And the night got deathly quiet
And his faced lost all expression
He said, "If you're gonna play the game, boy
You gotta learn to play it right

You've got to know when to bed'em
Know when to lick'em
Know when to walk away
Know when to run
You never count your money
When you're rindin' her on the table
There'll be time enough for countin'
When the fuckin's done

Now every manwhore knows the secret to survivin'
Is knowin' what to spit out
And knowin' what to swallow
'Cause some she-johns are winners
And some she-johns are losers
And the best that you can hope for
Is to screw in your sleep

So when he finished speakin'
He turned back for the window
Crushed out his cigarette
And faded off to sleep then somewhere in the darkness
The manwhore's man-gina broke even,
but in his final words
I found a Cambodian Creamsicle that I could keep

You've got to know when to bed'em
Know when to lick'em
Know when to walk away
Know when to run
You never count your money
When you're slidin' inside her
There'll be time enough for countin'
When the fuckin's done