Death Cab For Cutie

(A wee poem for a Monday – because every day is better with bacon.)

Driving to Mecca, my piggy and me,

Two lost souls searching for sanctity.

He in the backseat and I in the front,

I’m humming showtunes, but he only grunts.

Driving to Mecca o’er sand and o’er grass,

I’m certainly glad that my pig’s not an ass.

Dear Piggy is clean and his spirit is true,

He has no idea the plans I pursue.

For Mecca’s a stockyard and Piggy the stock,

And soon he’ll be bacon,

One giant hamhock.

Musical Moment

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