Wedding toast for the boy who stopped calling

a corpse in the sand lifts a hand's you step near
graze a smear of the space round your face on my ear
oh the fear of the grace of your eyes you're my prize
you're my hell     what the hell
hell is well

what's to tell
he's marrying me for my money

HAhahahahmhmmhm

.... .. . ..  .. ..... 

no but really

he doesn't even like me

and he agreed to marry me

HHAahhahahaHJmmmm

...

seriously folks

what a guy

you're my everything

my beetle shell

 glass eye

my handkerchief on the clothesline

at dusk 

you're divine

To my lovely new husband! (glasses up)

HERE HERE!

tink tink

(psptsch....hspspssp that was sweet, sphscp

a little weird chsts..sccse csstphst..p

sp...psst..pck.tchesph)