Dinner whispers, "come and get it", poses on a plate. We shot it twice with anesthetic, still it bites the waiters. Till they're bleeding in the loo. So goddamned hot it burns their shoes. We lick them clean, we eat 'em too. Still there's room enough for more masala, enchilada, monkey brains and donkey doos. More masala, enchilada, monkey brains and donkey doos. We'd eat the wall if it could walk and we could sink our forks in. We are what we eat. We are many-sided. Just you name it, sure we've tried it. Why hide it. (More masala, enchilada, monkey brains and donkey doos)