By Scott Chapman

if soylent green is people, then up with soylent green
where dŁnderbeck plunged forth into his sausage-meat machine
your tenure in the spotlight will not quite be forgotten
today's precocious childlife is tomorrow's kinderbraten

i gain your power and your strength, i gain some calories too
my breath is pungent with the scent of milkman vindaloo
the corpse's eyes preserve the last thing it saw when it died
but the image is distorted when the head is chickenfried

vegans have an herb aroma no one can ignore
the dog comes racing when she hears the gristle hit the floor
it sometimes takes a few more blows to put policemen down
but when they smell the bacon, people come from miles around

lip-and-arsehole sausages sit just fine with me
no fruit is quite as sweet as that of your family tree
by the time the end came, grandma rarely left the coop
her meat was tough and stringy but her bones made smashing soup

stick the thermometer under my tongue
when it pops up you will know i am done

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