I went to the Cordon Bleu
And my name is Pierre
I work in the kitchen
I’m a French chef extraordinaire

With fine French food
My name is synonymous
But I am an addict
I attend McDonalds Anonymous

When I make a quiche
I just want to hug it
But I keep getting cravings
For a Chicken McNugget

Fast food or French food
I am conflicted
Fast food or French food
Yes I am addicted

The 12-step program
Keeps me on track
I have to fight my desire
To binge on Big Mac

I pretend I’m a food snob
My life’s full of lies
When I buy burgers
I must wear a disguise

I should come out of the closet
Admit my transgressions
Then they would accept me
For my fast food obsessions

Maybe the other chefs
Would heap me with praise
If I smothered my Big Macs
With Sauce Hollandaise

if only we didn't chase after every ball that rolled into an unmarked territory
or reach after every shooting star that swam across the night sky

if only we didn't have to look at every face that passed by ours in the hallway
or touch everything that looked tangible

if only we didn't fall in love with every man we ever met
or hate every person who shattered our being

Miscommunication, dislocation, and the dumb
underestimating figuration, makes me numb
stagnant fluctuation, indication that I'm done
confusion, complication, confrontation, have i won?
Over powered, under fueled, restless worries scar
anger, enemies, fear and pain, never will be far
Procrastination, contemplation, the dying and the dead
These thoughts are overflowing, never going from my head

starry nights
are the
coral reefs
of the
ocean bright
the soup of life