I built a waiting room for my bread
With the blueprints I made in my head.
It has tiny couches made for sitting,
A small TV and stuff to do knitting.
I made some magazines, with tiny print,
On what to wear, a fashion-themed hint.
Of course for breads it’s just not the same.
Wearing cheese and ham is their aim.
There’s also tips on how to taste better,
And a whole section for a bready love letter.
“Ah, my dearest, I long for your crumbs.
Seeing your crust makes my body numb.
When you wear Gouda or camembert with jam,
I can’t move, like covered with spam.”
These entertain them more than I expected,
I guess it makes them feel less disconnected.
Breads love romance, and I guess they must,
Their days are numbered when I smell their crust.
Enjoy the moment when you’re gonna be eaten,
The life philosophy of the ones who are wheaten.