Reality

Kindly nature has seen fit,
To blind our mind’s eye to it.
For if we looked it in the face,
‘Twould surely end the human race.

The Waitress

I must attend this Bill of Fare
But lest you think me unaware
In time I’ll eye her glorious hair
And note her fetching derriére.

The Bride

I'll put my snowy gown away,
And view it not for many day.
Then nostalgic I’ll reminisce,
How once a virgin yet unkiss’d.
I yearned to be some man’s chattel,
To bear his whelp and tend his cattle.
But if his care prove unrewarding,
Things not unfold as should according,
Reserved have I a means so dire,
That his soul would pray for fire.

FEAR

BART train coming down the track,
Whoa, a dark man and suspicious pack.
Is it the terrorist whom I dread?
No, sick fear shan't own my head.