Sweet as a rhubarb strudel
As smooth as a spaghetti noodle
Moving from rice to nice
Everybody getting up
To get seconds twice
Patching holes in our pants
Cause we were playing cops and robbers
And needed an emergency brake for the ambulance
Grills on fire
It's a beautiful day
Not much that we can say
With no cash to pay
Wait a second...
Is that Bacon?
Yes it is.
We on track
To keep eatin'
Like a pack rat
Smick
Smack
Salty fresh
Sweet scents
Of savory tastes
From the food Saints
Like perfume in a smoky room
Filling my nose
With the food I choose
To take leftovers home for the next day
To boast to those who fall short
To a mother's stove on a Sunday
Where did they go?
The Mothers.
Who cooked from the soul
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