We've got a baby, we can feast!
We can dine three days at least.
Baby blood and baby bones,
Baby butter for the baby scones.
Little baby feets, little baby toes,
Ev’ry one of us wants the nose!
Baby’s had such very bad luck,
Now into baby, we will tuck!
Eat the baby, add some salt!
Bayleaves, barley, powdered malt!
Now baby’s salted, she’s a treat,
Her destiny, it’s time to meet!
Baby we need!
Baby we feed!
Eat with our teeth!
Better than beef!
Baby so soft!
Carried aloft!
Big brown eyes!
Caramelise!
He’s the Goblin King,
Yes, the Goblin King,
He’s not a myth, he’s an actual thing!
Here’s the King!
Here’s the King!
Here’s the King!
Here’s the King Goblin!
We love the king,
We sing ding-a-ling,
And we love his chin when it’s wobbling,
He likes to dine on coincidence
It fills him, builds him up, and hence!
He can eat -
He can eat -
500 puppies with golden fur!
BARBARA MARX HUBBARD: “THE BABIES WE EAT”
https://twitter.com/i/status/1661860013944766464
Truth will out.
The song Sweet Child O' Mine takes on a new meaning... appetite for destruction was such a great album.