To be,
or not to be,
this is the question.
"To be," was my final answer in the equation.
In otherwords I have my mind made up,
and nothing can corrupt.
Now if this is true ,
why don't I have a clue,
as to what I'm going to do,
about feeding my greedy ass face.
It's a dam disgrace,
how greedy I am.
Food I do jam.
Now if I'm going, "to Be,"
then I've got to control me.
Get a grip,
before I flip.
I did real good for a whole week and a half,
now I'm back to eating the whole dam calf.
Went to the donut shop,
in I hop,
Big coffee loaded with sugar,
the sweet stuff that will turn you into a booger.
Three big donuts,
the hole in the middle sweet sluts.
As I sit and ate,
I started wondering about my fate.
Can I really control this eating habit,
or will it continue to have me hopping like a rabbit?
I can't seem to stay away,
so someday,
I'll maybe have to pay.
So to the food God I pray,
Leave me alone,
let me go home.
Let go home,
and leave your junk alone.
Then I step in the door,
and my greedy wife has food galore.
I thought we were suppose to be controlling our eating,
but my home also looks like a picnic meeting.
Help!
Poor you!