| Ian why don’t you say grace
|
| «dear god thanks, and if you loved me vegetables would be extinct»
|
| Now I’m looking down the barrel of a string-bean side like an exodus of
|
| biblical proportion redefined
|
| Rectangle seat 4, squeeze 5, each one
|
| May not be excused from the table ‘til the green gone
|
| Stomach revvin‘ up an episodic rerun
|
| Where’s a dissipating plume of smoke when you need one?
|
| Chris and Graham hate ‘em too but advocate a braver chew invented for the code
|
| red, cola chaser, nose held, gulp!
|
| Moments later 2 have been released
|
| Leaving me the legroom and the legume police
|
| Going «freeze, you with the pretzeled arms
|
| Send your fabricated nausea my best regards
|
| And know this kitchen as a prison ‘til the pea pods die
|
| I could sit here all night»
|
| So could I
|
| Who was at the doorjust now?
|
| Kids on dirt bikes asking you to bunny-hop the curbsides Really?
|
| Yup I told em «oh he busy, he staring at his green beans being a total pussy»
|
| Who was at the doorjust now?
|
| Kids on skateboards asking you to navigate the claymores Really?
|
| Yup, I told em «oh he can’t, he in the kitchen pouting and terrified ofa plant»
|
| Blink Twice if you are being held hostage
|
| I speak and spell ofa sleeper cell in the hospice
|
| Woke, impersonating busy little helpers
|
| That intimately purr between the hiccuping up of feathers
|
| Pick a porcelain dish
|
| A single portion canned
|
| Frozen or fresh
|
| Defies the glory ofthe Poultry or fish
|
| Via communal bloodletting that rupture spud levy
|
| No '87 supper-scape was truly flood-friendly, ever
|
| Including at your basic cemetery for contaminated textures 60 minutes into never
|
| Where room temp heirlooms emanate a crude black mist
|
| To a rendition of «dude, dad’s pissed»
|
| Tell dad dude’s pissed too
|
| Not to mention genuinely brandishing a the new gill hue
|
| Still out-mule any last strafing watchmen
|
| ‘til the lord taketh waiting as an option
|
| Who was at the doorjust now?
|
| Kids on dirt bikes asking you to bunny-hop the curbsides Really?
|
| Yup I told em «oh he busy, he staring at his green beans being a total pussy
|
| Who was at the doorjust now?
|
| Kids on skateboards asking you to navigate the claymores Really?
|
| Yup, I told em «oh he can’t, he in the kitchen pouting and terrified ofa plant»
|
| Less like toes in a tide pool
|
| More like, left, right, poached from notable giant Kaiju
|
| Fat neck, fine tooth, rock and lean, yelling
|
| «this ends now eat the god damn beans!"ah!
|
| Hangdog mouth talk slang wrong and that there’s flatware exhumed by a crane arm
|
| Time for some action
|
| Stab one ripe for a swipe and extraction
|
| Brined in malpractice
|
| Carried to the cavernous yap and obliged access
|
| If only in compliance with a deep-fried fascist, peep
|
| Literally bite down once
|
| And my tongue get a flooding from my uninvited guts
|
| Pointer finger plug a hole in the damn
|
| Ma notice, «ok gross, dinner’s over, go spit», pop call «bullshit»
|
| Both of my brothers break in, like «he's on his Davie Hogan no mistaken»,
|
| by the way
|
| Who was at the doorjust now?
|
| Kids on dirt bikes asking you to bunny-hop the curbsides Really?
|
| Yup I told em «oh he busy, he staring at his green beans being a total pussy
|
| Who was at the doorjust now?
|
| Kids on skateboards asking you to navigate the claymores Really?
|
| Yup, I told em «oh he can’t, he in the kitchen pouting and terrified ofa plant» |