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Here's the stuff we found when you searched for "Why, I'll let her eat my back fence, if she wants to."

She really does want to clap along, but at the same time she doesn't want to let the bird get out.
when you're done, you can let her die if that's what you want. Or you can wake her.
Sometimes the apathy she saw made her want to curl up and cry
Her grief is still too young to behave itself, so she never lets it out
All the while he was talking she was thinking what his whiskers would feel like on the back of her neck
She took a California tilt and never came back.
let her take me, feed on me, devour me
My mother wants her mother to die
If you want to die clean, eat your own pie
She crashed her car trying to avoid a butterfly
She quietly hugged him back. At 8:30 she ate the rest of him.
Veronica loves manipulating her vagina until she explodes
I don't tell her these things, and she doesn't ask
And when she came back she was nobody's wife
A girl I know had her jaw wired shut, and she vomited.
She was buttery. She was asking for it. She was delicious. Let's all give in.
How long do you think I'll let you keep me here?
So I let her go
to let her know
Why my sister couldn't let go of the electric dog fence
I want to reach my hand into the dark and feel what reaches back
I don't remember what her name was so let's call her Doris
How to be strong for her, when all you want is to depend on her
the way she wears her weary
Would you like to penetrate her shell, insinuating yourself among the pages of the books she is reading?
i always want to go back. but i don't know if it's time yet. i have some things i have to do.
She asked me if I loved her and I showed her the tattoo
She, the Last Leviathan. She, the Station Agent. Chin on her Palm, she Watches Every Departure.
She picked herself up, wiping away at her dignity
you never once told her how beautiful she was nor how much you truly loved her
All That She Wants
Just don't let's pretend she followed you home
I don't want to set the world on fire. I just want to start a flame in her heart.
She Called in Her Soul to Come and See
In the Fifties, a visitor from Great Britain to New York City notices a young Black woman driving a limousine. A portly middle-aged man, race undetermined, is in the back. Tell her story.
I'll be back at it, dirty and reckless
crystal eats her grilled cheese sandwiches with ketchup hearts
She wears her failed relationships like a shield
I don't like her because she won't like me
Don't let your cat eat toothpaste
Mantra: Water off your back, brother. Let it go.
She plugs her tears in the way you'd keep a dam from breaking
She grew a little older, while he was telling her
In a quiet grove of pines under a frosty sky, he helped her out of the sack. She wore severe white hospital pajamas and was beautiful.
does she need to touch her own face to know?
if you fear spells, look away when she decides to share her hair with the wind.
A dose of mystery slipped into her cocktail while she was in the ladies' room
She who leaves men as flaming wrecks in the ditch on the side of the road in her wake, yea, even submarines
When she woke up, her hands were still dreaming
cities full of ravens, silent concrete echoing back while she sings
She knows no truth except her own.
She practices her speech
She keeps her lies everywhere
She's a stallion, let her run
Tell me how you want to die, and I'll tell you who you are
she gave her heart to a falling star
She only wants me for sex
She Wanted to Leave
I'll tell you why you want Democracy
I gave her my heart, she tore it apart, and who gives a fart.
Because I still love her, because I know she still loves me.
Come back safe; we don't want any dead heroes in this family
Launch me into space, and I'll never need to come back
Correct me if I'm wrong, and if I am, I'll eat a bug
Please, for the love of everything that is holy on this Earth. I just want the cold back.
someday, when she will think back upon the time when she was as yet undishonored
Who let her get at the Johnny Walker
Since she whom I lov'd hath paid her last debt
Let them eat cake
She ties regrets around her fingers like forget-me-knots
They walk around her like she is in danger of breaking
She flies with her own wings
She thought about giving him her heart
I want my brother back
She calls him Sugarcane. He calls her Hurricane.
Her innocence fell. She kicked at it some, frowned, and left it there because it was beautiful.
The portion of her face she allows me to see
He touched her once and she turned into a golden creature. He never touched her again.
I come home, she lifted up her wings. I guess that this must be the place.
Her back
You want to reassure her, but you don't know where to start
She Will Have Her Way: The Songs Of Tim & Neil Finn
Some nights, alone, he thinks of her, and some nights, alone, she thinks of him
She does not take her trip. She does not shout out loud.
Her self image was not the force field she imagined it to be
She was so quiet that nobody heard her
She didn't wave goodbye so much as slightly raise her hand
She Will Have Her Way
She is the queen of accidental magic. Her used kleenexes, taken by the wind, become soulful ghosts.
She opened her eyes and spoke in a very normal voice, just as if she were sane
My hands on her back; slipping into sleep
You put a hand on her hip, she permits it.
She asked me to read her a poem
Why if I ever meet Nancy Grace, I'll punch her in her yapping poodle-like face
I would have attempted to draw her if she had stayed that way.
She smokes. It wraps around her wrists and clings to her neck.
Looking back from time to time, her tears falling fast
She nicknamed her vagina "Crusty"
She said her father died of cancer in the sixties
She is the sea. Above her, he is thunder.
I'll be back
She always confused her greys with white.
It's my birthday and I'll refuse to drink if I want to
Her sleeves ride up on her arms when she moves
She is a night of dark trees, but he who is not afraid of her darkness will find banks full of roses under her cypresses
the small of her back
Let me dream if I want to
Please please please let me get what I want
I'll let you in on a secret
If she really wanted to fit in, she'd get a smaller dog.
All She Wanted
Bob wants me to let my imagination
Just because I'm nice to her doesn't mean I want to fuck her
I'll pretend I just cursed myself by saying this, so when it doesn't happen I have something to fall back on other than you
She sat back in the bleachers
Now he dances to bring her back.
Pig on her back
Let's put the fun back in funeral
I don't want to go back to work
I want my Forest of Eriador back please
Keep a room somewhere for me, I'll find it on my way back.
She started to fall, and knew she would never come back
I wanted to eat; I had fir-trees
you never want to eat somewhere you work
Her hands on my back; slipping into sleep
She said, while hugging a bowl of turnips close to her bosom
Robert Lionel Fanthorpe fills up the word count in a science fiction novel: she brushed her teeth
She found her bliss between the headphones, and pursed her lips.
She asked me to copy my poem into her notebook
I don't want to see her
She bruised her knee. This is how we met.
I don't think I would want to date her now, anyway
It happened to everyone else; she swore it wouldn't to her
Her perception of how gorgeous she is will be evident in her lack of movement during sex
I haven't seen her in a month. She is still beautiful.
Nobody likes me, everybody hates me, think I'll go eat worms
How Stella Got Her Groove Back
Let Her Go Down
She sat in virginal white, eyes closed, with only her face in rose
she left her handwriting all over the calendar
What's she gonna look like with a chimney on her?
She does not rustle but her flesh has the moonlit shade of a silver birch
She was never mine. I always shared her.
serene. She sips her tea
She is so beautiful, I gave up Nihilism for her
Want (the state of not having her)
Why you don't want to piss her off
I don't think she even knows that I make her smile
a smiling girl with blonde eyelashes and a sundress. someday i'll find her
You can play with my ex-girlfriend, but treat her like the lady that she is.
She was a committed romantic and an anarcha-feminist. This was hard for her because it meant she couldn't blow up beautiful buildings.
The emotion on her face was always the one that she was feeling in her heart
She always was devious in her beauty
She opened her eyes, looked at a world made entirely of white light
And she, with her beautiful words and such a fire burning inside
she had already found her party
it was just as if she held her breath for 82 years
At night, her eyes closed, she would
She was most amazed by the obvious, like January and the fact that I could not possibly keep her.
She was the prettiest, loveliest cat at the ball and she had upon her fine gilded whiskers.
He loved her so much, he wanted to do her autopsy
why she makes her wishes at 7:07
i gave her my heart. she gave me a pen.
I told her I could read her mind, but she didn't believe me. I could tell.
When she sleeps, is she not moving her legs aside for an unknown garrison?
She gets caught in the little world beneath her sheets
She was inside the music, with her eyes closed
she lit her thumb on fire
She disappeared as if he had only dreamed her
She is willing to attempt to retrieve the data. Go with her.
little pieces of her tragically poetic attempts at being loved that she was startlingly aware of, today
Susan Goldman, who has cervical cancer, is partly thankful as she braces herself but changes her mind as she's sprayed with burning jet fuel.
while she sleeps, i write myself into her life
she doesn't write, doesn't tell you stories, but somehow it's her words that spring to mind at those crucial, terrifying moments, and for that you are eternally grateful
How to test if your mother REALLY has eyes in the back of her head

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