Santorum in the tub with love

touch me my accumulation
touches on the top of the napalm
of the trickle down of the kiss of the lip
figerlets turn everything from a to b
and touch upon the reched rhythm
the calculated decision
hear me say morendo as before
oh! to war! to war!

in ditch half a head of hair
three fingers of ditchwater
half a hair of head extends
‘bove surface water extends
to crossroads where signage declares
oh! to war! to war!