I'm gonna fish 'em all
That halfbaking army talking loads of
cack
They're gonna talk it tall
Voting for themselves right
behind my back
And I'm baking by myself at
night
Because I'm mad as heck
Got crossaints on my
mind
And I just can't forget
Though the message from my
eyes
Says leave it alone
Don't wanna hear about it
Every single baker has a bun to
sell
Nobodys voting for it
Even though you thought that
idea was swell
But if you catch it being 'baked' my
way
You're gonna link it to you
And that ain't what I want
to hear
But that's what you'll do
And the feeling coming from my bones
Says fishbone!
I'm gonna half this all
Baking's not a pastime - it's become a
chore
I'm slowing to a crawl
Typing every letter with
reluctant paws
And I'm bleeding and I'm bleeding and I'm
bleeding
Like an amateur
All my buns are gonna bleed
from me
And I will bake no more
And the plate that used to hold my buns
Tells me 'go back
home'