Some say I treat you like you’re on a roller coaster
My way of thinking:
My love is a broken toaster,

You give me your all,
Your sweet slice of bread
And when I give it back, your bread will be burnt and dead.

Set a time, a level, a crisp that may appeal;
You’ll get none of what you wished for and
Realize that nothing was real.

I do not supply honey, jam, or anything sweet.
All you receive is a burnt slice of bread
And the feeling of a lonely belly with nothing to eat.