AN: ok i'm not even sure injelada is a word. according to my sister it isn't but i don't care so if it bothers you tough.
All your theories are churlishly fragmented.
Demented. He so felt it.
It's my wedding day tonight.
So I'll fight the skies and your
For one, two taste/make haste.
Take out the little women.
Miserable to the punch, having lunch.
It's all just too much.
They're crows that'll never fly.
Pests that'll never die.
My wedding day was supposed to be fun.
Shear out the tears. Switch your gears.
At least with cars you can crash.
This whole injelada hailed to the roses.
Stripped/flipped out the curtains.
Hung up the women.
We can wear them to the next wedding.
Starched black with the ink of a mule-
sorting donkey years. So when the
children have ditched and the husband,
saviour of thy soul(bitter bedding/wedding
cake snaked to sarcasm) has filched(no guilt)
another maiden doll.
The old ladies will crow- now didn't I
tell you so. just. go. grow.