(Sung to the music of Jimmy Crack Corn)
Banjie crack whore and I don't care, --
Banjie crack whore and I don't care, --
Banjie crack whore and I don't care, --
Your ass is blown away!
Andrew and I met as exquisite
teenagers at a South Carolina beach
community one summer in the '80s.
We got drunk and I pierced his ear.
He bled but didn't cry because he
has no feelings. I knew we'd get
along famously. We lost touch for a
short time--alright, seventeen
years--but have picked up again
where we left off and have found we
have plenty in common besides our
cold little hearts. I love his accent and
value our reestablished
friendstership.
Oh my. Banjie changed his photo.
Apparently, he's under the impression
that there's some photo in existence of
him somewhere that *doesn't* make him
look like a backwoods hay-shakin'
tobacco-chewin' Albanian goat herder.
There's not. I mean that in the best
possible way, sweetie -- don't go
changin'.
Andrew came to the Rosie Cup. It was a
hoot. He had this pretty friend...Leigh.
Anyway, he was in a pen stripped suit.
He looked like a British gentleman. But
he was no gentleman, I can assure you!
That boy's got a smart mouth!
Banjie crack whore and I don't care, --
Banjie crack whore and I don't care, --
Banjie crack whore and I don't care, --
Your ass is blown away!
the words "thank you" never pass his
lips.
teenagers at a South Carolina beach
community one summer in the '80s.
We got drunk and I pierced his ear.
He bled but didn't cry because he
has no feelings. I knew we'd get
along famously. We lost touch for a
short time--alright, seventeen
years--but have picked up again
where we left off and have found we
have plenty in common besides our
cold little hearts. I love his accent and
value our reestablished
friendstership.
you something you can count on it
never happening and you can count on
him saying that's what other people
do.
sweet.
"...that ain't chocalate! thaz sh*t!"
miss you dearly
Apparently, he's under the impression
that there's some photo in existence of
him somewhere that *doesn't* make him
look like a backwoods hay-shakin'
tobacco-chewin' Albanian goat herder.
There's not. I mean that in the best
possible way, sweetie -- don't go
changin'.
it to the Westside Range. don't forget
to make an appointment....
hoot. He had this pretty friend...Leigh.
Anyway, he was in a pen stripped suit.
He looked like a British gentleman. But
he was no gentleman, I can assure you!
That boy's got a smart mouth!