I love tomato omelette : (If butt can complain)

It is a very big possibility that I have lost ability in steaming you to well-done

I played my lonely silent night, before mistletoe is advertised on sales

Working on, to make life simpler, you found yourself, and lost the other selves

You feel interesting, when others declared you as a boring living

It does no harm, like a piece of music with no drum,
my solo play of half-boiled manifesto, i'm drowning in my omelette solitude

Bite a big apple, throw your gold medal,
quit playing wild-goose chase,
even rondo needs a break,
there has no cure to a self-less disease,
as there is no medicine for NO-Thing,
You blow me no no

Sucking my tomato sossy pack,
I miss my omelette with bloody ketchup

Sometimes, hatred sweats like 50 cents
you feel like breaking some eggs
and talk like some aliens

I love my tomato omelette
but sticky lion caves are oil-frying-prohibited

I was told that I've got reek from the stinky lionlioness
I stink not because of the land,
it is because your nose are filled with shit

Can't deafen your ears, for lousy high-frequency waste
Can't blind your eyes, for ugly little this and that fashion taste
Can't save your moneys, for pity porky funny kitsch

Hai, quit getting into my cosmos
I will stumble on more of your decayed roots
that you told me those are ginseng herbs

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If butt can speak for itself, it would probably be shouting: I Love Tomato Omelette, but Why Are You Feeding Me Shit?

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