Themanofbat
Never Mind the Buttocks...
- Joined
- May 23, 2000
- Messages
- 41,133
- Reaction score
- 298
- Points
- 173
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep,
though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
Maybe we could all take a few moments today and thank the countless lives that have been lost so we could have the pleasure of living a a lifestyle of being lazy, reading comic books, and jerking off to internet porn.
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep,
though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
Maybe we could all take a few moments today and thank the countless lives that have been lost so we could have the pleasure of living a a lifestyle of being lazy, reading comic books, and jerking off to internet porn.