The things I write for free food My body is a temple. That makes you the priest. Pray at my altar, And the goddess will let you feat. Let's play a game called Pop goes the weasel You're **** so big, It prolly runs on diesel. I'm no vegetarian, All meat diet. There's dessert beneath my skirt, Maybe you should try it. In the middle of the desert, Between my legs is an oasis. You don't have to be thirsty, To make the trek to taste this. My dying wish is that my mom will never see What I had to write in poetry To get a starbucks card for free.