Why does this stick of butter smell queer?
Oh, because I’m attempting to smell it through my ears.
Drugs are good, drugs are weird,
I took a tab and now I’m drinking a beer.
I have a made a discovery,
That’s kind of silly and kind of whacky,
That alters my perception of this stick’s genre of creamery.
This isn’t butter at all, at all:
It’s a block of cheddar, huzzah!
It might be Welsh, it might be goat’s milk,
Either way, here’s what I think:
The walls are spinning,
Charlie Sheen stopped winning,
I hate Instagrams with the caption, “Twinning!!”—
A second revelation has just made me feel- chagrining.
(And I know that’s not the right tense of the word,
But here yee, here yee, my senses have taken yet another turn.)
I thought that block of cheese tasted odd,
But now I know my eyes deceived me into this fraud.
It was never cheese, but alas: a bar of soap;
Now I’m just some doped-up-soap-eating-dope.
Crabtree & Evelyn:
Twenty-Six big ones billed.
Less than thrilled,
But my high, never killed.