Stuffed

My stomach can't take my tongue's desires
As I groan and pray I die
A heart that burns like a thousand fires
fueled by the 7th slice of pie

There are just days when I can't say no,
in fact I can't say much at all,
for once more into the breech I go
to answer the belly's siren call

I envy the butterless, fatless freaks
who crave only a carrot's crunch
who don't fill a tray till it bends and creaks,
before they've even started lunch

I dream of gravy, spluttering fountains
and trees of steak and cheese
where the muffins rise as high as mountains
and you can wander as you please

So fill the fridge with calories
and leave us there to dance
we'll taste the sweetest melodies
in our culinary romance

I'll swell like Violet Beauregarde
and roll from meal to meal
I'll grease my doorways thick with lard
and squeeze through like an eel

Until one day I'll hit the floor
and flounder on my back
Please come to see your friend once more
and bring some kind of snack