laughs and ((hugs)) hell maybe even some drugs
that’s what my bitches could be made of…
margaritas, potato juice, whiskey and gin
oh that’s what my bitches are pickled in…
(well there’s the one who likes latte’s but her liver’s already in)
babies and men (when they show or behave), shoes and the pen
that’s much of my bitches days are made of
bedazzled shivs, cakes with shanks and matching sequined shorts & tanks
that’s what my bitches make a fight of
funny and strong, wounded and healed, fierce, scarred and talented
that’s for sure what my bitches are…
well, there was this one from nantucket… but, we shived her and threw her in the river.
thanks for makin my day bitches… jazz hands!