Backstreet's Broke Back (Alright!)

Moan "the house."

When I insert my rigid key into your dripping lock,
Don't worry if you seize, I've got a lubricated cock.
Because it is raining, and the rooster is outside,
I'll put him where he needs to be, with my neighbour's bride.

I'll take my strong hands and turn open the knob,
When I enter this dark place, I'll yell out..."HEY BOB!"
Bob is the neighbour, whose bride I gave my cock to,
She loves my dear cock, though it's pecked her through and through.

But upon further inspection, something is wrong,
Loraine (my neighbour Bob's bride)'s brain, ain't always on.
Instead of drying my rooster, she's getting it wetter,
Now I know what some will say..."well isn't that better?"

Maybe if the rooster was my penis,
But it's just a damn miserable animal.
"Loraine, you are killing my rooster"

"Our Grass", she moans.

It has been a year since our rooster died of pneumonia.

The twist: the rooster WAS my penis.  I DIED OF PNEUMONIA.
Cock a doodle doo.

M
 (   )
  L  L

(I am the dead rooster)

======D  (This is if the poem was about a penis)

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