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Ode to a Fast Food Restruant

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There is a place where I pick up food,
And where free napkins are issued,
And their straws are striped white and red,
And there the small children are fed,
And the fat man waits for cornbread.
To get a snack is all they wish.

Let us leave the place where food is healthy
And the beef is always stewed,
Past the place where they have low salt cooking,
We shall feast like a king that is fat and belching,
And watch the soccer mom leave honking,
To the place where I pick up food.

Yes we’ll die with a heart that is black and aching,
And we’ll go where the iced tea is brewing.
For the people, they feed, and the people, they know,
The place where I pick up food.





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