Wooing vegans with pitcher plants 

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Quinoa is bullshit, and so is kale. Here is what I eat,
Things which used to roam, things which rolled in the peat
See, there’s a black hole in my raviolis through which
Went all the meat. Get me that cow, get me the beast
And I’ll make us even until the label’s true,
If not for me, for you. Well done, rare, blue.

When the day’s done, I sleep on wine
It helps me remembering the line,
There’s a next day at work when things are fine.

Dismiss me. It takes courage in order to bring out
The angriest voice in the cheering crowd.
A voice which says why there are too many books
And how in the era of cheap oil, we kept most
Instead of burning them all at the chosen fahrenheit.
I fear no fire and know nothing, I will vote.

It’s the death of Fridays, one’s having fun by the ton
Then we’re all limp and comes some Federal State
Which does something political to our roaring party.

I see things which exist at the back of a cork
Friends see farther – call it a three-bottles space
How can I not sound too much like captain hook ?
You’re cute, you’re nice, but you’re in the wrong place
And what makes you look fat is also cheap,
You cannot have it both ways, here one cannot cheat.

I drink to forget that, I sleep better on wine
But really I sleep better on « a » stomach
There I can dream : nothing’s half true and nothing’s divine.

Image credit : Woodstock

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