Public Consumption
That bagel in our waiter’s hand
Has sent me to a far-off land,
Where rings encircle dunes of sand
And toasting suns leave my crust tanned
But sadly this scene fades from sight As soon as I take my first bite, Warm day becomes a frigid night Because my order’s just not right –
There are no onions in this band, It’s plain and pitifully bland (Yet in my want to be polite, I swallow hard, and feign delight)
But sadly this scene fades from sight As soon as I take my first bite, Warm day becomes a frigid night Because my order’s just not right –
There are no onions in this band, It’s plain and pitifully bland (Yet in my want to be polite, I swallow hard, and feign delight)
