The lunching line, checking out
And tensions turn to goals
A plate of peas to face the doom
Au graton potatoes
Oh, chance of a food fight
Bring it for your side
The forecast tides a course flung high
And flying spaghetti falls
Oh, load up your chow and go
Best not to eat it all
Stewed or fried debates decide
An airborne smorgasbord
I have sauces gathered, bound for a volley o' woe
I'm waiting with my noodles of parmesean, waiting with a feast to throw
The applesauce is really co-old, and freezy makes it best
And salad for your colon care
Fiber, do not forget
No, no
Chance of a food fight
Fling it high for your side
The applesauce poured down his back
And croutons on his head
Oh war is the common cry
Pick up your sporks and
The sky is filled with fruit gone bad
And kernals of old corn
Oh, go down
So while the fight rolls on, get under tables, go
Guard the prize of these chili fries, waiting with a feast to throw
The rain of corn we fought receds, when 'lo a snack attack
The knees will quake as nachos fall
Then sling fries right on back, fries-on
Sing liberation
Fries-on
Toss taters at the horde
No comfort has the pile of fries
When lies an empty bowl
Oh, chance of a food fight
Fling it with all your might
So wipe your jeans to get the cheese and fling the nachos back
Fling a snack
At last the chef is nigh and
His cries of truce rise high
When flings from the tables of two sides
The goulash blinds his eyes
Oh ahh oh
Fling a snack, fling a snack, fling a snack, fling a snack
Fling a snack, fling a snack, fling a snack, fling a snack
Duck down, go down, get down, oh
Duck down, go down, get down
Fling a snack, fling a snack, fling a snack, fling a snack
Duck down, go down, get down, oh
Duck down, go down, get down
Fling it, fling it, fling it, fling it, fling it, fling it
Fling it, fling it, fling it, fling it, fling it, fling it
Thursday, November 17, 2016
Saturday, November 12, 2016
Burnt Umber
Paper, tears one off, and lays it down, she's got to draw
Think how, unicorns and princesses could be
As she opens the box, tips it over
No crayons in there but this one burnt umber
Her skies aren't blue and her trees aren't green, can't find another crayon
She's got no yellow, no green, no red, can't find another crayon
Can't find another crayon
Can't find another crayon
Oh
Thinkin' to herself, this rainbow's lame, not colorful
She draws an elf
Oh, remember box when crayons were full and long
Then bratty brother, stole in, stole them all
Crayons got eaten, now her crayons are gone
She wants some orange and she wants some red, can't find another crayon
She's got no purple, no pink, no thing, can't find another crayon
She lies and says she likes umber, can't find another crayon
She sees no silver, she sees no gold, can't find another crayon
Can't find another crayon
Can't find another crayon
She lost them, she can't color dreams this way
He eats them, he wants a crayon snack again
Can't find another crayon
Can't find another crayon
Can't find another crayon
Can't find another crayon
No Timmy! That one tastes like poo!
Think how, unicorns and princesses could be
As she opens the box, tips it over
No crayons in there but this one burnt umber
Her skies aren't blue and her trees aren't green, can't find another crayon
She's got no yellow, no green, no red, can't find another crayon
Can't find another crayon
Can't find another crayon
Oh
Thinkin' to herself, this rainbow's lame, not colorful
She draws an elf
Oh, remember box when crayons were full and long
Then bratty brother, stole in, stole them all
Crayons got eaten, now her crayons are gone
She wants some orange and she wants some red, can't find another crayon
She's got no purple, no pink, no thing, can't find another crayon
She lies and says she likes umber, can't find another crayon
She sees no silver, she sees no gold, can't find another crayon
Can't find another crayon
Can't find another crayon
She lost them, she can't color dreams this way
He eats them, he wants a crayon snack again
Can't find another crayon
Can't find another crayon
Can't find another crayon
Can't find another crayon
No Timmy! That one tastes like poo!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)