Taking a nod from the guys at thebigthings.com, i decided to write my own spam poetry
I call it...
This was the room where she had died.
300,000 satisfied men
Smiling to you, dear;
Arlene turned to me,
raising her brows like a pair of question marks.
Would you try anything once?
Its subtle, whatever it is.
Everything becomes peaceful after this stuff
I never joined up to ride on tigers