I use a carving knife
The blade cuts deep
The blood weeps
Open wound festers
Black blood - Blue blood - Black
Those kitchen implements
Sure know their stuff
In sage and onion
Shove it deep inside
Isn�t that tasty!
Pastry rolled flat and battered
Stir it about
It moves! It�s alive!
A little flicker
A little pulse
It starts to throb
It falls on the floor
Crawls away
Limps away
I get down on my hands and knees
My hands are sticky
Caught red handed yet again!
Mudcrow
December 2 1998
