To Your I Q to Your I D

Chinese masseuse,

comes between us talks in haikus,

plastic venus.

Got a headrush,

in her pocket two rubbers two lubes,

and a silver rocke,

Hang on,hang on to your I Q,

to your I D

hang on, hang on to your I Q,

to your I D

I'm lonely Every morning,

my eyes will open wide

I gotta get high,

before I go outside.

Roll another,

for breakfast burning clouds around,

and in my solar plexus.

Hang on, hang on to your I Q,

to your I D

hang on, hang on to your I Q,

to your I D

I'm lonely Legs eleven,

makes me stay up late

two fat ladies on my back,

and now it's 88.

I'm a fool,

whose tool is small it's so miniscule,

it's no tool at all.

hang on, hang on to your I Q,

to your I D

hang on, hang on

I'm lonely Oh.

cancion para un fomingo ...con mil frio y con kñita ...

cuando vendras por mi balcon a verme ?

te espero todos los dias ... te sueño todos las noches