by KYLA

In other news, Afghanistan
has advanced stink bombs, Fart
grenades, and a very powerful toilet,
plus a giant plunger and two of the
world’s famous plumbers.

So why don’t they have a giant
sink or a giant bar of soap?
As we all know, Osama Bin Laden
poops and farts like everyone else.
So why is he different?

Everyone in America has been
asking this question for years,
Now they’ve finally figured it
out.

No wonder our sewers in
America smell like 100^th degree
murder in diarrhea.
No wonder Lady Gaga made
a meat dress.

No wonder celebrities sell
so many perfumes and
colognes.

Now Americans know why
these psychotic things
occur every day.

It’s all because Osama Bin Laden
flushes the toilet and doesn’t wash his hands.

by KYLA

A sad, sad song that has been
sung so long.  Bout a man who died
out of love and romance, he fell
for a woman who he though was
so sweet, she then pulled the rug right
from under his feet.
She kept breaking his heart, he kept going
back.  She dumped him on the road
like a big brown sack.

He kept on forgiving and then she
lied and before he knew it he
decided and died.

She never realized that he was
the one, she died on that day
and then there were none.

And so before he died he said
to her so light.  Save your
first dance for me in your dreams
tonight.

When she realized she loved him
that made him sing, she’s as beautiful as
the evening.

by KYLA

Sorry Mom, but I’m not comin’
home for dinner.

I’ve had enough of this life,
all I know is pain.

The people in my life make sure
to use God’s name in vain.

It could cost my life runnin’
the streets all day,

but it all happens in the life
of dead Runaway.

I’ve been tormented all my life
I swear it’s true.

If I went to hell, I’d say
to Satan; This is all you got
What else can you do?

So I ran down the railroad
tracks like a track star winner.
And all I have to say it,
Sorry Mom, but I’m not comin’
home for dinner.

And as I lay dyin’ on Sharp rocks,
my memories began to play:

Cause it all happens in the life
of a dead runaway.

by KYLA

Construction, blocking out the animals
of the forest.
Like over the Hedge, these critters
should try to get their home back.

Like, tumble weeds blowing in
the wind, all you see is plastic
brown sacks.

Cars fartin’ carbon monoxide to
join the world’s air pollution.

People get cancer from the poisons
all around them.

Houses stack up like pyramids,
that are not of Ancient Egypt.

Metallic objects can be used
to make bombs, Instead these items
are thrown aside like rotten shish kabobs.

Religious people say 2012 won’t
come, but if we keep killing our
world; It’ll happen.

So keep praying that people will stop,
or else it’ll be the end of us all.

Quit concentrating on finding
your one soul mate.
Stop pollution before it’s too late.

The leaves around you are
crisp and dead.
The sky is grey, as if we are the
poor that can’t be fed.

The air smells of smoke
and poisons that make 2012
our life.

The sewers are filled
with disgusting water
that we drink.
And people wonder why
IPS kids can’t think.

And people wonder why there are
Suicidal Teens.
There are cruel people,
you know what that means.

Global Warming is coming, We
will bake ‘til we fry.
So stop pollution or we’re
all Gonna Die!

by KYLA

Stalking through the forest trees.
The wolf’s red eyes glowing in the darkness.
It sneaks upon its prey.

Crouching real low to move through the grass
like a snake.

Breaking the silence it growls.
Then attacks its prey swiftly.
With the smell of blood in the wolf’s nose
It howls to the great full moon.

Prowling into the night,
leaving not a trace of him in sight.

Stalking off to his lair in the high
mountains, beyond the gloomy caves.

The wolf’s howl calls to the pack.
Four growling and barking wolves come
from the pitch black forest.

Racing to the high mountain,
The wolves disappear into the eerie night.