The woman Who Doesn’t Exist

Come listen while I play, a song about a babe,
A babe who is already to dress up like a French maid.

She loves the Super Bowl, but not the remote control,
For her anniversary she wants a fishing pole.

She the woman, she the woman, she the woman you’re never gonna meet.

She thinks your snoring is soothing, she loves that drool on your chin,
And when she catches you with her best friend, she joins right in.

She’s never on your case, she gives you closet space,
And when she takes her makeup off you recognize her face.

She says you’re number one, she calls you hunny bun,
She loves to hear stories about other girls you’ve known.

She the woman, she the woman, she the woman whose never gonna show.

She loves to make you a sandwich, she brings you a Budweiser,
And every twenty-eight days, she gets even nicer.

She fills you with desire, she sings in the choir,
She calls your beer belley your power tire.

She loves to make you dinner, she thinks that you’re a winner,
And when you’re feeling down, she says pull my finger.

She the woman, she the woman, she the woman who doesn’t exist.


Another song, I thought was funny. Enjoy it guys.

would you like a bud?lmao

Bud light please.