Boyd

Get in the oven, young cousin,

If your pupils dilate wide

Bearing your rufie and your butter-knife member,

wearing their scalps and hides

Don’t put your hands on her

Don’t read your poetry

Because it’s worthless and it’s didactic to me

Shave off your handlebar, stitch you to the car

I’ll sell your organs off for tuition

So you better get her home by 11:30

Yeah you better get her home by 11:30

I’ll take a look at your parents

and scour your DNA for your disease

So you can beg me or bite down

Your hollow words mean nothing to me

Don’t blame your alibi

Don’t sing your poetry

Because you found the lion deep inside of me

You are America

raised to bow and pray

Before the ivory palace where you lay

So many fish, so many fish

I’m gonna eat you raw

So many fish, so many fish

I’m gonna eat you, I’m gonna eat you