If you desired sprouts and avocado,
And I was covetous for a steak
Would this be a deadly horror
That would condemn the lofty cake.
Must I hide my humble potato,
And fill my plate with oats
To dilute my hungry testosterone
With holy cheese and grouts.
OK! Your beauty is the measure
If I stumble for you, I’ll fast
As I ask for pure forgiveness
For my meat and potato past!
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