Tuesday, August 22, 2006
The Tale Of Box Spring Susan
Her name was Box Spring Susan
She was used to the bruisin'
That Carl inflicted at night
Always awake and scared
Her pink flesh laid bared
She gripped the bottle too tight
One day she done well snapped
Too many whores had been slapped
The drawer was open, under the light
And when Carl came on home
He took three bullets to the dome
And Box Spring Susan felt high like a kite
-AP 08-22-06
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