down south we love our goobers
salt em up and set to roast
eat em by the dozens
drink em in our cokes

fix em fancy in deserts
peanut butter pie
big and small all size and sorts
eat em till the day we die

granny loves to cook em
goobers in green beans
adds a bit of crunchiness
to the down home sunday dinner scene

with newspapers set out on the floor
in front of  television sets
cracking shells like walker texas ranger
does good for nothing yankee heads

buy em hot and buy em boiled
along the roadside stand
spilling goober juices
all over the cars naugahyde rotan

finger licking greasy
from out a planters can
down south we love our goobers
like you done heard me said

Accompany by lights
In the middle of the night
Enjoying the crunchiness of every bite
Thinking of the thoughts that i cant decide

Thinking of you makes me feel lonely
Cause all i have with you is just a memory
Running in my mind like watching a movie
Just me and the popcorns in theater B.

Poor old Howard.
He's a Cornflake coward.
Jumps art the sound
Of each crunch
And brittle bite.
Giving up the fight,
In his act of
Guttless confession.

His mother was a
Breadcrumb beater.
His dad was a
Post box persecuter.
His sister a sadistic
Spider spinner.
And each night they
Ate cornflakes for
Dinner.

Cornflake coward;
No need stress at
Their crunchiness.
In time; milk
Will soften their design.
Giving you a chance to
Chill and recline.

the crunchiness of energy
wrinkled, stiff stored up
in nooks and crannies
of nooks and crannies

the bands these bands
and lines of force and
opinions of bored matter
about just where you

might be right now
are all wavering red
as this past second
panics and runs off

carrying one end only
of my thoughts strung
through bending time
stuttering about acting