That Old Rugged Cross-Dresser
Songs » H » Holy Molar » That Old Rugged Cross-Dresser
Oh butterball, roll you down a fucking hill in an oil drum, kick you in a canyon. Oh butterball, your diaper's dirty, carrying around your meatslabs in a suitcase all wrapped up in your party dress. Oh, it's bleeding through... Oh, at customs expection you are what legends would surmount to.
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