I have eaten all your brothers;
you're the only one that's left.
The last soldier for the slaughter.
Your last moments before death.

I'm a man made in God's image,
You're a nut born in a field.
And the trick to your undoing
is the ***** inside your shield.

So my hand descends from heaven
and it lifts you to the sky.
Then I pull but you hold steady,
you stand firm although I pry.

You have won oh mighty peanut.
'Gainst this beast survival's bleak.
Not from strength did you prevail
But by having nothing weak.