Poisoned by Food Songtext
von The Jazz Butcher

Here it comes again - that same old invitation:
Table set for ten - use your imagination!
Oysters, lobsters, quails and frogs, sir.
Stilton, partridge - loaded cartridge!
Oysters, lobsters, have another dog, sir.
Garlic, dog-breath - this means slow death.
Poisoned by food - You better think it out
Poisoned by food - You better work it out
Poisoned by food - You better sort it out Poisoned by food - You better spit it out!
Here it comes again - that same old funny feeling,
Sure to disgust your friends, because there′s no concealing:
Poisoned by food - You better think it out
Poisoned by food - You better sort it out
Poisoned by food - You better work it out
Poisoned by food - You better spit it out!
Born to be fried!
Born to be fried! Yeccch!


Here it comes again - that same unwholesome feeling.
You just stuff yourself, now you've got trouble breathing.
Poisoned by food - You better think it out
Poisoned by food - You better sort it out
Poisoned by food - You better work it out
Poisoned by food - You better spit it out!
Don′t swallow it, just spit it out.
Oh, you're not that kind of guy - you just don't want to die.
You just like eating, just like eating - it′s just like eating.
Aw, you better spit it out.