You tried lovers, politics Needle-pinned to get your kicks;
When your causes went kablouie
You ate rats in your ratatouie
Candied gods beyond your pain:
The sugared angel of sugar cane.
Your carnal highs were most intense
When your lovers lacked all sense
You went to booze and women later.
Now all you need is a refrigerator
Candied gods beyond your pain:
The sugared angel of sugar cane.
If I were employed in Hell
To be the chef of Earth as well
I'd make my feathered cuisine sweet
Dole out delight, then, let them eat
The candied gods beyond their pain:
The sugared angel of sugar cane.
Matthew Paris