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(, Sun 1 Apr 2001, 1:00)
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The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want,
He makes me down to lie,
Through pastures green He leadeth me the silent waters by,
With bright knives He releaseth my soul,
He makes me to hang on hooks in high places,
He converteth me to lamb cutlets,
For lo, He hath great power, and great hunger,
When cometh the day we lowly ones,
Through quiet reflection and great dedication,
Master the art of karate,
Lo, we shall rise up,
And then we'll make the buggers eyes water
Bleating and babbling we fell on his neck with a scream,
Wave upon wave of demented avengers march cheerfully out of obscurity into the dream.
(, Wed 29 Jul 2009, 13:42, Reply)
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