“My Holes, My Choice”
By: Kurt ‘The Open Portal’ Simmons
(Genre: Heavy glam rock meets trap meets chaos — think Queen meets Kevin Gates after a bottle of lube and zero shame)
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[Intro – Screamed over guitars & synths]
You don’t get to choose what goes in me…
I DO.
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[Verse 1 – Kurt (bold, unashamed)]
They told me “Kurt, that don’t go there!”
But I said “Watch me — double dog dare!”
You worried ‘bout my lifestyle, bro, that’s strange,
I’m stretchin’ boundaries like a rubber band range.
My body, my biz, my freaky little zone,
I host more guests than a Marriott throne.
You ask “Kurt, why the grin on your face?”
Cause last night I sat on a whole briefcase.
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[Hook – Choir of demons and drag queens behind him]
My holes! My choice!
If I want a garden hose, I’ll rejoice!
My holes! My rules!
Stuffed with freedom and pride and power tools!
You don’t run this ship, you don’t know my gates—
I’m the TSA of my entry states!
My holes! My life!
Now pass me the spatula and turn off the lights!
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[Verse 2 – Kurt (freak flag fully flying)]
I put a pool noodle in me just for spring,
Sat on a speaker and felt Marvin Gaye sing.
They say “that’s unnatural,” I say “so’s fear,”
I turn shame into lube and shift into gear.
Crammed a trophy in me from 7th grade track,
Just to prove I still got that flexible back.
I ain’t ask your opinion, I ask for the lube,
My holes take guests like a freaky Airbnb move.
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[Bridge – Spoken, like a TED Talk from Hell]
You ever screamed your own name while sittin’ on a turkey baster?
I have. And I found God halfway through.
And he said…
“That’s yo hole, baby. Make it a cathedral.”
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[Hook – Even louder, with gospel organ and whip cracks]
My holes! My choice!
You don’t like it? Mute your voice!
My holes! My terms!
Fillin’ my voids like I’m fillin’ urns!
No shame, no guilt, no filter no more—
If I wanna take a bowling pin, that’s folklore!
My holes! My right!
And tonight I’m takin’ two traffic cones and a flashlight.
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[Final Verse – Full send]
One time I sat on a mini-fridge live,
Had to call in sick but came out revived.
My doctor said “Kurt… that ain’t wise,”
I said “Doc, my hole got stars in its eyes.”
So to the crew who judge or complain,
I’ll be ridin’ rebar while y’all ride shame.
You say “Kurt’s sick!” I say “I’m free!”
Now hand me that ski pole and let me be me!
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[Final Hook – Entire stadium chanting with rainbow smoke]
My holes! My choice!
If I want a pressure washer, I’ll rejoice!
My holes! My throne!
Stuffed with pride like a 5-pound scone!
Don’t need your rules, don’t need your grace—
Just a full-sized gnome and a parking space.
My holes! My right!
And I’ll fill ‘em with dreams ‘til the morning light!
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[Outro – Whispered over twinkling synths]
They call it reckless…
I call it hole ownership.
KennyT69
