Bacon
I would awaken to the scent of bacon,
The kind of bacon you’d be making always left me shaking and aching,
Quaking, for some more of that bacon.

I’m not mistaken, that bacon was for my taking,
when I woke up on kings row like Ronald Reagan,
And the misshapen stains of bacon dripped down your apron,
Like water down the side of a water basin.

You see that bacon left me complacent,
To know I’d tasted god made bacon,
It gave me infinite dreams like iron maiden,
A feeling I could not be faking.

But one day I woke a little shaken,
The absence of the scent of bacon. left me broken and forsaken with the ever relenting aching of a lack of bacon as though Satan would be complacent and end the lack of bacon fuelled motivation

Cause you left me for him, and now I’m breaking,
There’s no longer the scent of you, or your bacon
And he’s lucky, cause what he’s got is amazing
He’s not taking the cake
Nah he’s taking the bacon.

By Thomas Charlton