pepsi and coke are the bombs of cazoo,
but his teflon will never know,
and still the rising moon will meow,
no matter how we do.
the number nine is by our side,
the blueprints still are dashed,
roger weeper and duh ring,
make those wimer potatoes mashed.
thack is the quail but i dont care,
cause the losser in the box,
hath followed wimper to his speaker,
in crazy omnidox.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem