By Valannin

Oh let me go see, by the fridge’s dim light

What’s on the top shelf, or perhaps in the crisper.

Maybe pie or some ribs, will satisfy me this night

I don’t see them in the back; did I have them for breakfast?

Nothing but some old cheese, and leftover Chinese

But no chicken wings, oh my Lord help me please.

I pray that there’s an open place that de-liiiii-vers what I crave,

Cause I’m scared to make a snack in my spy microwave.