There was a crooked man.
His name was David Icke,
He knew everything about you,
Even when you bought a bike.
He was such a fucking pervert.
A rancid piece of shit.
A hacker, burglar and scientific fraud.
He needs squeezing like a zit,
So all the puss can be squeezed out, the skin cleaned and disinfected, and we can start fresh.
The Ickes declared war on me, not t'other way round. So they can you-know-what off!
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