The girl that we like’s got some flub
She takes up the entire tub
She smells like old custard
Her skin looks like mustard
She’s dead, but we’re horny for grub
–
Red is the governor’s nose
Speaking in his podium prose
The gibberish mounting
The babble enticing
A mustard gas purchase at Lowe’s
Pour mustard on ripe tangerines
Spread icing over tambourines
Looks and the sounds you make
Church bell swallowed in cake
No wonder you break trampolines
–
A tortoise sandwich is a must
Tomato filling under crust
Puncturing chubby shell
Draining the ketchup well
We slurped up the sauce in a lust
Cocaine makes ketchup in noses
Dripping into bathroom roses
Addiction is beauty
That’s tipsy and snooty
Ending as still yellow poses
The Empire State Building lights
They’re red and they’re yellow tonight
Candy corn towering
Greatly empowering
The scarfed rats of streets to unite
–
My computer cursor is dead
It couldn’t handle what’s in red
The touch screen invasion
The smart phone sensation
It yellowed the arrow with dread
–
The lanterns across the sea call
Radioactive tennis balls
In shooting star cannon
Will rain over Camden
And yellow my clean overalls
–
The candle was creamy then sore
An atmosphere crept through the door
Deliberate evil
And something medieval
Now Christmas means just a bit more
–
Befriending the red Pac-Man ghost
At mid-summer parties I host
Reaching up his curtain
I swear and I’m certain
His dick is a rare weenie roast
