Album: Taste the Flavor
you're like a critic/who wasn't sent a presskit
you can't conceive of anything to write
you're like a trained dog/who wasn't fed a biscuit
you won't perform for anyone tonight
you say you're lonely/but you won't let me visit
you say you're wounded/but you won't let me kiss it
but I can see/what you want from me
by the way your eyebrows arch
but I'd rather have it watered down
than thickened up with cornstarch
you're like psychic/who says the future's cloudy
you can't predict how all of this will end
you do a highkick/you hug me and say howdy
I'm not convinced that you're fit to be my friend
you say you're weary/and all your sleep is fretful
you say you're sorry/but you don't look regretful
and I can tell/there's a parallel
between soldiers on the march
as they overrun some border town
and the way you feed me
who gets the backlash without all the hype
going straight from green to overripe?
you can fix me forever in your movable type
I would shout for assistance but you're flooding my windpipe with
cornstarch
you're on your knees/in your powder-blue pajamas
I'm making scenes/you're constructing dioramas
as you rehydrate/all your tears of hate
from their former state/as a concentrate
so the flavor's not so harsh
do you like your gravy rich and brown
and thickened up with cornstarch?