Karl Marx, Disco Dancer – Illiterate Lilly, the matchgirl in high heels, a perfected disco dancer …

Illiterate Lilly, the matchgirl in high heels, a perfected disco dancer with a new light in her life, Karl Marx.
Karl, crumbs climbing his beard, stains on his shirt, a manifesto brewing and a wife in Grafton Terrace, but illiterate Lilly persisted, Dancing Queens do.
Lilly and Karl, Karl and Lilly, and Friday night up near the front of a Disco Queue.
Bouncers eyes roaming all over Karl Marx’s face, then its mouth opened up, a bearded trap door – ‘their labour was being exploited’, so bouncers quit for freedom, and Karl got ‘Disco!’
Karl’s beery grey-white beard rubbing frothy glass tops at the Disco Bar, Lilly in the Ladies perfecting lip shape and hipster moves.
Soon a pull on a Great Man’s arm and a Germanic ear summoned to lipstick lines – ‘Dance with me Karl, take me to Nirvana!’ – Disco dance floor sensation!
Karl Marx heard tune and hit it good with illiterate Lilly, and Pop!  Pop!  Pop! went his arms from his chest and Slide!  Slide!  Slide! went his feet from his legs, and illiterate Lilly wiggled hips and ass at his lust.
Karl now spitting foam and sending blood to pointed head, illiterate Lilly wet and wanting a Clever Man’s juice, then, cloakroom missing two coats and two heads soon on one filthy ‘Falllen’ matchgirl floor, Karl Marx and illiterate Lilly, spreading legs and spreading germs.
Karl Marx on his feet and in an idea, illiterate Lilly still on her warm back in a cold room, and the library just opened, so Disco can wait.

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