Burning and churning in the guzzling fryer
The customer can't hear the cashier
Speakers fall apart; the stomach cannot hold;
Two western cheeseburgers; loosed up and hurled
The pink puke tide is loosed, and everywhere
The scent of mayonnaise and hash browns
The best order unconvincing salad, while the worst
Are full of American cheese.
He Wishes For the Sauce of Burgers
Had I the double moonshine burger meal
Enwrought with golden straw onion fries
The sweet and smoky moonshine sauce
Of midnight, a delight, at least half pound cooked right
I would spread my self into that seat
But I, being poor, have only the hard taco ground beef
I spread myself into that seat
Tread softly, you tread on my ground beef.
When It's Three Days Old
When it's three days old and grey and starting to seep
And microwaved and on fire, curse at the cook
And slowly breathe, and dream of the look
The fries had once, and of the salt layers deep
The sweet and smoky moonshine sauce
Of midnight, a delight, at least half pound cooked right
I would spread my self into that seat
But I, being poor, have only the hard taco ground beef
I spread myself into that seat
Tread softly, you tread on my ground beef.
When It's Three Days Old
When it's three days old and grey and starting to seep
And microwaved and on fire, curse at the cook
And slowly breathe, and dream of the look
The fries had once, and of the salt layers deep
How many loved your garnish of baconnaise
And loved your juicy patties too
But one man loved the pickles in you
And loved the buns coated with sweaty glaze
And bending down, the rotting food devour
Murmur, a little sadly, how the lettuce is dead
And how the undercooked burger bled
And how you hid in the stall for hours.
And loved your juicy patties too
But one man loved the pickles in you
And loved the buns coated with sweaty glaze
And bending down, the rotting food devour
Murmur, a little sadly, how the lettuce is dead
And how the undercooked burger bled
And how you hid in the stall for hours.
Gratitude to the Unknown Ingredients
What sort of unknown glue
They bound in mass
All thing hangs like a piece of poo
Upon a jet of gas.
What sort of unknown glue
They bound in mass
All thing hangs like a piece of poo
Upon a jet of gas.
