I am half a soul, an unrighteous thing to do to yourself, being sold
In this sick morality...of things, as I finally come to the reality
That this is not normal. As a bullet makes it’s way through
Yay.

Life tastes good, on the home cooking channel
But all that I see is the sun’s reflection, and the tastes of anorexic puke
From the morning’s cow
That was slapped onto the skillet screaming freely through greese
Of bubbles, and they pop POPPED on my skin
I became white, American, bleached, and sick

Cock and twist! my bones, I’ve already showered
As to my feet are now dirty, because of the f**king floor
Where the maid knocked over my sea monkeys, yesterday
They now sleep into the pores of my feet, becoming my bacterea

I jump on my bed-
Slept the morning's rest away

Ah, aren't all our mornings like that?

Reminds me of the great line, "You're watching the Food network...where did your life go wrong?"