Cut him up boy
You've got to cut him up boy
He's a wicked disgrace
And he said it to your face
You better cut him up boy
Take him by the teeth
Get him down on his knees
With your hands all shaking
That'll teach him how to take it
Gotta cut him up boy
And how
Ply her heart with gold and silver
And take your sweetheart down to the river
Dash her on the paving stones
It may break your heart
To break her bones
But someones got to do, the culling of the fold
cut him up girl
Really cut him up girl
He lives by himself in a hole in a wall,
You've gotta cut him up girl
You can take him in a stitch
Dump his body in a ditch
Leave his limbs all naked
That'll teach him how to take it
Better cut him up girl
And how
Ply her heart with gold and silver
And take your sweetheart down to the river
Dash her on the paving stones
It may break your heart
To break her bones
But someones got to do, the culling of the fold
Listen up boy
And listen up girl
It's a shallow little trench
And it's giving off a stench
It's a shallow little world
Feeling down in the face
Could you use a little space
When the radio crackles
And the inlaws cackle
You better cut him up boy
And cut him up girl
Ply her heart with gold and silver
And take your sweetheart down to the river
Dash her on the paving stones
It may break your heart
To break her bones
But someones got to do, the culling of the fold
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His scarlet eyes glared down at the figure kneeling in front of him, head bent in concentration and wry hands curled around his dick. His own fingers were woven tightly through the figure's raven hair, pushing his head down further, making the male take more of him in. He heard the male gag lightly, and he saw his eyes widen. The thin hands uncurled from his dick and were set flat against the sidewalk; the boy tried to push away from him, but he pushed down more and more, causing the sound of choking to fill his ears.
As he looked at the boy, the prostitute began to seem less and less like his beloved Lawli. His eyes weren't light grey, they were a sluggish black with tears running down his too sunken cheeks. There were faded pock marks on his forehead, and his dyed raven hair was greasy, not feathery.
The prostitute began to slow down his attempts at escape; Beyond could see his eyes beginning to fade, and soon his movements stopped all together.
Beyond removed the male from his person with a disgusted sneer. He stood and zipped up his baggy pants, studying the gasping youth with curious, dancing red eyes. He reached into his pocket, taking out a rusted, blood-stained pocket knife; he unfolded the sharp instrument with care and leaned over the boy. A deep scowl covered his lips as he brought the knife closer to the prostitute's jugular...
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Couldn't sleep, so I wrote this. Please review.
