the cow

they tried to turn me into a cow
and grease their rods with my milk
but I ate trash and smoked grass
and when it came out sour they winced
in pain and i was fat back then,
fatter then I’ll ever be again, and I was
free range, baby, and no cattle prod
is hot enough to put me back in the pen,
I’ll just jiggle and vibrate and stand
on the steps in everybody’s way
and when the cops come their bullets
will bounce right off.
I’m gelatin vengeance and my milk
might be sour but my cheese
is just fucking rancid
and over in France that shit moves units,
Tariff free, so if you think you can tell me what to do
and you think you’re sharper than me then go ahead,
give me hell and see what happens and if
I’m wrong and I die instantly
you’ll still have to deal with my corpse
and you bet your ass it won’t be easy,
no, not with how fat I am.
But lucky for you I’m a pacifist and what
I really want to be
is in the forest sniffing for truffles
and sniffing and digging and you
Know what, if the going is good I’ll slim down a bit
but the reality is that’s not exactly an option, and we’ve
got to put an end to this impasse one day or another.