Little Red Riding Hood
Like flocks he had
Was for nothing but blabbering good
About stuff a pig would've spared
He can catch your attention
But just to make you wonder
If his is a condition
Of God making a blunder
He may be miles far
But his presence will always cling
Coz your ears his voice can scar
Like a crow attempting to sing
A dinosaur constipated
His laugh sounds like
Face like a lemur frustrated
On his ass being spiked
He's a gift to humanity
Is what he tends to think
But he defines insanity
As his brain tends to shrink
He listens to what he calls music
Like choked donkeys attempting to bray
His hair on head become pubic
Body swaying like a pleasured gay
The list's never ending
But a pause has to come
So I'll end by saying
This guy's a wasted cum
