Why does food taste worse when we make it ourselves?
We’d shrivel up and die without the stuff off the shelves
Why do our inventions unravel like poorly spun balls of twine,
Which we dish out anyway, and cut with a comforting bottle of wine?
Would the wine be so special if we had grown the grapes?
Or would it be stale and feel out of shape?
No, nothing we make ever seems real…
That’s the primary reason why everyone steals
Nothing’s remarkable about a tagged apple on a stand,
But it suddenly turns golden once it’s contraband
But back to life, liberty, and the pursuit of sustenance:
I will quit by merely saying that we’ve all become pundits,
Without ever getting smarter or even more knowledgeable,
Yet we’re free to tell the next guy exactly what’s swallowable
And if we’re vegetables and the supermarket’s our master,
We might as well get it all over with faster,
By eating the junk that makes us drop dead,
From ironic starvation ‘cause we’re too fat to leave our beds
Alexander is a Simon’s Rock freshman and the Copyeditor of The Weekly Cad.