What's For Dinner?

There's ketchup in my veins, Onions for my eyes, Lettuce instead of brains Makes me less than wise Stringbeans for legs, Cauliflower ears, Pistachios for muscles, Greener than Irish beers Feet than seem like melons, Hands like baked pork chops, Hair like thin spaghetti Tears like lemon-drops I try to avoid dogs, They seem to follow me, Eager to take a bite Lunch is what they see I stay out of restaurants Where chefs approach too close All they see is a new recipe A brand new type of roast My neighbors are all cannibals They invite me over to dine They look at me hungrily And try to match a wine Seems I am the main course Humongous pots they own Boiling water and vegetable They mix with greatest glee Ask me if I'd like a warm bath But now I began to see Them licking their lips In eager anticipation of my offered "bath" It started getting easier For me to do the math... I put two and two together And I was Sunday lunch, This I was fairly sure of, Seemed more than just a hunch I said I couldn't join them, I had a poisonous rash Saw my opportunity, And made my fastest dash Now I order home delivery Get my groceries through a large slot in the door, And as far as dining out is concerned, I'll never do no more.