So I'm inside this WHITE HAWT red-head tonight, a sexy little Italian number, undressed in the Gaulish cream of the northern parts of her ancestory: and who do I hear? Sarah McLaughlin.
What song do I hear? Good Enough.
Who do I think of?
The one that got away?
The one that I got?
The one that I got rid of?
The red-head writhing beneath me?
NO.
The one that I can't touch.
The one that keeps me sane.
The one tied to the shit-stain that is warmin the bed I should be makin love sober in instead of ruttin' half drunkenly here in.
Thank you Sarah McLaughlin, you are an inspiration to pissed off cock-blocked frustrated black men everywhere.
