...And All The Candy You Can Eat

I'm running out of rhymes
 I'm running out of art
 I'm running out of songs to sing
 About this wicked world breaking my heart
 I caught the smell of honey
 In the tragedian landfill
 And if the honey don't get me
 I know the beehive will
 Into the oven you go
 I'm running low on lime
 to put the rest of lyrics
 I'm dripping dry on themes and schemes
 To hobble with your walking stick
 Who's that a-nibbling at my house
 The kids will answer the wind, the wind
 Into the oven you go
 Don't give me that, little pig
 'Cause you know better by now
 That not by the hair of your chin
 I'll have to blow your house down
 How do you like it, how do you like it
 Now you know now
 The horror is in our hands
 The hands that hold our hearts down
 Into the oven you go
 And that's the fever talking, honey
 "I've come to fatten you up"
 'Cause I'm an open book, my honey
 Except when the book is shut
 Who's that a-nibbling at my house
 The kids will answer the wind, the wind
 Don't give me that, little pig
 'Cause you know better by now
 That not by the hair of your chin
 I'll have to blow your house down
 Good god almighty! How do you like it, how do you like it
 Now you know now
 The horror is in our hands
 The hands that hold our hearts down
 The beauty is unbearable
 We want to stretch it all out
 The cripple cries out to walk
 The songless sings their heart out
 Good god almighty! How do you like it, how do you like it
 Once you know now
 The horror is in our hands
 The hands that hold our hearts down
 Into the over you go