Manufactured To Her Smile (Draft roflmao)

Oh there once was a lady in Spain,
Who could spend her whole life in the grains,
Well it's not of the fact that she lacks in the brains,
But I think it's a logical bane.

She wait out for her children to come,
Back from school, yeah they usually run,
As she stares through the haze,
Of unwelcoming faces,
She thought to herself,
It's getting too late.

And there once was a man in a car,
He thought none of who or whatever they are,
He continued his ride,
And never abide,
To the sound of the siren,
The sight of the stars.

And she rushed out into the breeze,
She saw death and he was on his knees,
He said "please oh don't kill me"
"Cause I'll let you down"
Like an orphan, yeah that was his frown.

He came out as a radio star,
He went back as a deliberate czar,
Forgotten his keys,
And he ran to the trees,
Cause rascals, yeah that's who they are.

I don't see the smile,
It was there for awhile,
I can't call it a grin,
Cause it seemed like a sin,
She was naught what I thought as senile.

And her children was locked in a cage,
If she knew she would throw fits of rage,
There were guns in the air,
And she still wouldn't care,
A matinee, yeah that was her stage.

He called his mother or two,
Thought he'd say his very last 'I love you',
But his cellphone was dead,
And then next was his head,
Oh of course they'd say 'I love you too'.

She climbed up the walls of the gang,
Reddish hair like an orang-utang's,
The char on her face,
Couldn't hide her disgrace,
Of the bearded and yellow-stained fangs.

God these kids are a mess,
I told you we should've gotten a rest,
Now our lunch break is gone,
And our dignity won't be long,
At least get something cladded with breast.

When she saw them they weren't to her taste,
No rough speeches or scarves on their face,
It wasn't TV,
But thank god it was free,
Cause she left it without a trace.

Hey that lady is trespassing grounds,
Let's catch her and cut off her gowns,
If she's married or Jew,
Well I won't give a poo,
Let's just hope she has no kids in town.

God where the hell are my kids,
Let's not hope they're not in a pit,
Cause I gave them their lunch,
Oh it's just a big hunch,
But their sandwich would taste like shit.

The joke of this story is over,
So let's skip to the part where they kill her,
She got down on her front,
And then all of it is done,
Except the Russians didn't slice that mother.

She told them she was forty,
And her husband was around fifty-three,
She told them she had children,
They're Jonas and Magdalen,
The youngest one, yeah that boy was me.

Wait isn't she suppose to be Spanish?
Ever heard of interbreeding you Amish?
Well I hope you're prepared,
Or aren't you scared?
If the Taliban blows up your radish?

Well now I'm in university,
And then everything was history,
My mother was glad,
That she got back her bed,
That they took cause they were too lazy?

The worst shit that I've ever done,
Is write stuff like this and not even shun,
Well I'm bored as you see,
Of Vinci and mee,
Like the Russians who ended up as nuns.

-ZiM NOT J. Incinera