mama hen is sittin pretty on her nest of straw,
peckin worms and scratching dirt
corn kernels in her craw,
but when she squawks and hurries home
and opens up her legs,

it's not brown that's comin out,
it's mama's farm-fresh eggs.

- barbara ebbs, farm council of eggs

from where you're kneeling it must seem like an 18-carat run of bad luck.
truth is... the game was rigged from the start.

you aint got the cash to pay me out? i knew you were just another broke john from the moment i laid eyes on yo sorry ass... i guess you can say the joke is on me for not trusting my instincts...

paying my respect
g'day

Hey cutie <3

also, +rep