Digestion

If guts were synthetic Would you still need an emetic To rid yourself of filthy wants And all the choices you find daunting If brains were a microchip Would you blank out with every glitch Could you reboot your feelings Enough to heal from me If your heart was mainframe Would you still feel so much shame I cannot complain I feel the same Eat it up Eat it up Eat all your din Eat it up Eat it up Eat all your sin If your hands were plastic Would they feel less fantastic When you strummed upon my heart Your fingers picked apart If your tummy were full of butterflies Would all the love in your soul die Digestion of the deepest apologies An inner phenomenology Eat it up Eat it up Eat all your din Eat it up Eat it up Eat all your sin Happy meals in your mouth Happy thoughts heading South Stopping at a greasy diner Nothing could be finer Eat it up Eat it up Eat all your din Eat it up Eat it up Eat all your sin