I hate All for Love.
You know, that tossing pile of MOR shod that Rod Stewart, Sting, and Bryan Adams tossed out like a rotting cum-rag in 1994.
It’s a gallon of piss in the ears. A blustering, over-blown biscuit game of a record. They’re in a circle, wanking on the face of music, then greedily grasping at the sodden, spunky, sad little cake. Scrabbling and scratching, wolfing it down like savages.
I hate that song, and I wish it was alive, so I could watch it die.
I envy every single other planet in the universe, either barren, lifeless, or desolate, because they don’t have that song to look back on like a war-crime from old. That’s trillions of planets. Billions of stars. Millions of galaxies. And we got lumbered with that song.
So, I’m going to re-write the lyrics. Fuck off, you triumvirate of tossers. Here’s my juvenile version.
When it’s shit you eat
I’ll wank all on your shit cakes
then in piss you swim
I’ll make a massive shit steak
I’ll be the clown you can piss on
ram peas in your hole
shit in the fruit bowl
When there’s poo inside
I swear I’ll eat that shit log
then there’s a massive piss pie
I’ll eat it all fucking day long
I’ll be smearing shit spunk and poo
all over my face
and all over the place
Let’s make it balls for bums, and bums for balls
Let the beans you eat
be the peas you need
’cause when it’s balls for bum, and bum for balls
When we’re shitting in the snow
then just let your urethra flow
and make it balls for bums, and bums for ALL.