Mister Fred

By
Hello Mister Fred
Eating flesh on white square bread
Where is your wife at?

Is she now in bed?
Sleeping off the pain of loss
Children now all dead

Or cooking her stew
Of fingernails and green eyes
With smiles and wines

And you Mister Fred
Eating your way to the grave
Belly stuffed way full

No longer walking
Since she has taken your feet
Now in her muffins

But tasty is flesh
And as long as she pleases
You will not stop her





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