Pizza in supermacs,
11 pm and I’m trying,
Not to make eye contact,
They’re more afraid of me,
Than I am of them,
The pizza is too hot,
My mouth Burns and I like it,
It’s good to burn,
I like it,
If desperation had a taste,
This is it,
The whole place reeks of it,
From the staff to the consumers to me,
The pizza is too hot,
Respect for the working class,
Is best enjoyed at a distance,
The distance is narrowing I feel,
In childish foolishness,
When my words flew,
Round and round the wicker tree,
I spoke of them and me,
The distance I can’t see,
This pizza is too hot.