Like mountains erupting into the sky,
the towers of Perfectville pop up past the clouds.
And just as the sun passes right above our heads, we know it must be noon.
Time to eat.

Sizzling softly, drenched in grease,
just speaking of the ManGobbler Burger is too much.
For I have not eaten one in almost five minutes and I must say I’m starving.
It’s time to eat.

I should hurry now, the sun hides.
Yesterday I missed most of my midday meals,
simply because I took too much time to talk with my neighbor as the sun rose.
It really is time to eat.

They say the burgers come from far away,
though our city streets don’t stretch that far, only dirt roads.
When it’s deemed necessary to go there, we’re told we stand twice as tall as their people.
Perhaps they don’t eat.

Part II
Far away from home,
where only dirt roads stretch,
it is to our great displeasure that we must say,
that land has been eaten.

Crushed beneath the weight of an army of burgers,
no one had the strength to fight for even a moment,
by the second hour of the invasion there was no hope for anyone.
The lakes of mud and fields of withered crops were destroyed.

Part III
It has been a week now,
no materials for our burgers have come in.
I swear I feel as though I’m dying, my insides are rotting.
I need to eat.