Gimme a -- A second I'm -- Flipping words on my tongue Like beef patties on a grill Watching them shrink on themselves Then shrivel until they are barely the same animal Fish flakes, dancing about like they're alive On a hot-- hot stove My chest is a furnace. Housing a fire that is More accustomed to swallowing than to The delicate art of --- Of flipping But I'm trying And, the beef will come out Charred and black and bitter But you'll have beef And I'm trying.