Octopussies are eight

Some of them were late

But they bleed all over my cake

No matter they cannot taste

So I apply a sponge too late

And I must wait.

In a cycle watching your arse

Peddling behind you

So close to your cunt

It displays a playground protected by skin.

There is no engineer for you

Is best you bleed in hospital

In a secure room

Protected with your dreams.

You are an image

And you tamper with my lust

But your mathematics favour your instinct

To breed.

Oh weak woman I bleed

As I'm ripping off your panties

And I feed on your smelly rags

Go and pee behind curtains  

Display all you have bitch

I am not going there.

My admission is weak

My dick withers into its sack

And I play with my balls.