I take my steaming supper on a granite shelf
The same one your grandma kept her clown collection on
I invited you to join me but you insisted that you were a vegetarian
Last week I saw you eat a chicken feathers and all, still warm
Lying only prolongs the inevitable, two kids and an old woman
Tomorrow I dine by candlelight, on your still twitching carcass
Not the way I wanted to dine together sweetheart
But your coldness makes you.... the fourth pig
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