"My, my," says the glutton
"The streets are made of meat!
Chicken lampposts, sausage sidewalks, parking meter pigs' feet!"
"No sir," says the cop-man
"The streets are made of crime!
Robber lampposts, sniper sidewalks, rapist parking meter dimes!"
"Ain't so," says the psychic
The streets are made of stars!
Libra lampposts, Pisces sidewalks, meters misaligned with Mars!"
Well, the glutton eats the lampposts
and the cop takes sidewalks' names
and the psychic palm-reads meters
but life all goes on the same.
