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| Gwar Hell-O Je M'appelle J. Cousteau I was there at the cattle fair, where lump fairies swear at glories far be- yond the fabric that she wears. He said "Do ya wanna chair?" I'd join him any- where! A hole in the ground, in this theatre I found J.C.'s infernal horde-- they caper, they banter, forming human pyramids, all to please--their infernal Lord...Whoa! His name is J. Cousteau!!! A pussy and I know you know!! I know you know, and there he goes. He goes and grows, on gosh, he knows--Aboard the Calypso!! The foam beside, and a burly sea to ride, all spell goodness for the master of the whirling pimple tides. He tried and fried until the rusted hinges sighed, and then he stepped inside! He found her there, swimming in her seaweed hair, looking vaguely like a lover who has hung herself with underwear--Phosphorescent green and the sex-act made obscene, in Jacques galleon of hatred--This wrinkled French- man is a living god!!! Cousteau, you know, where the dying dolphins go, and the wasteland ever growing, never slowing till it's far below--Put it on your T.V. show--and let the humans know!!! |
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