“Crisp anyone ?”
You know we’ve birthed beyond our mean
As food grows
scarcer, hear our stomachs scream
And while we’re in the throes of some
culinary dream
We might want to reconsider, the cracker that is green
Keep
them in the freezer, or cure them in the shed
Hungry for the dead , hungry
for the dead
Have it with some white sauce, or perhaps a little bread
Lands
all scared, its been bitch slapped
Trees all dried, not even simple sap
I
guess its time for the other white meat snack
Have
some tasty gluteus, or get a little head
Hungry for the dead , hungry for the
dead
Will you have some off the top, or maybe veal instead
We hated Jeffrey Dohmer, and cold meals in a pass
We
thought the stranded soccer boys repast was really crass
But when it comes
down to it, to stave of that last gasp
If the other choice is starving, I’ll
have “monkey under glass”
Hungry for the dead , hungry for the dead
Is the water hot
enough, no sushi for this lad
Hungry for the dead , hungry for the dead
I
really can’t remember should the wine be white or red