|
it didnt look like pie to them |
|
they came in from the east |
|
but as the punch was free |
|
it was a go to join the feast |
|
the bitches dressed all different |
|
wore hoods to stand the heat |
|
they were moving in a trance |
|
in sync and slightly off the beat |
|
the east dont wanna split |
|
they keep their table for the night |
|
a set of rules to feel inside |
|
never go far, dont leave the hive |
|
but punch be sliding fast |
|
so stuff would start to look like pie |
|
and they would blend in with the tribe |
|
and find companions for the night |
|
this the new cuisine this the new cuisine |
|
this will make u lean this the new cuisine |
|
the salt stones were presented |
|
they were rolled out after dark |
|
a climax countdown made the mark |
|
the packs of dogs would start to bark |
|
the east were first to lick |
|
as they were guests coming from far |
|
and had been greedy at the bar |
|
now midnight called them to the spar |
|
the stones were lined up 5 in all |
|
and human sized so tall |
|
pointing to sky for not to fall |
|
fat crystals calling to the ball |
|
the east stepped forth with gloomy eyes |
|
to late to make escape |
|
they walked up to the stones of salt |
|
stretched out their tongues and licked their faith |
|
this the new cuisine this the new cuisine |
|
this will make u lean this the new cuisine |
