Here, I wrote a poem for you. FUCKING HAPPY NOW?!Old Darth Vader had a man named ash,
whose requisite was a purple sash.
He rarely left his home without,
a plastic spoon and dreadful gout.
All aboard a midnight weary,
he sat in hand with sith a cheery.
The two of they had girls to court,
to a film then siege a fort.
But for all their boast and dreadful fun,
they could not shake that naughty hun.
Hitler bode them well that night,
just one more sleep before their fright.
(,
Mon 9 Jun 2008, 2:44,
archived)
whose requisite was a purple sash.
He rarely left his home without,
a plastic spoon and dreadful gout.
All aboard a midnight weary,
he sat in hand with sith a cheery.
The two of they had girls to court,
to a film then siege a fort.
But for all their boast and dreadful fun,
they could not shake that naughty hun.
Hitler bode them well that night,
just one more sleep before their fright.