I have a little secret, oh I spose it’s nothing huge
There’s lots of folks that share this thing, a dark self subterfuge.
I analyze and worry; I’ve dismal attitude,
so I need a medication, and that drug, I fear, is food!
If I’m smarting from embarrassment, an apple pie will do.
A bag of taco chips can help if I’ve been dissed by you.
For straight intimidation I need meat, like t-bone steak.
If stress consumes my being, I consume a carrot cake.
For anguish I need lots of stuff, like cinnamon on toast;
and chips and dips and jerky strips and crab cakes from the coast!
Rejection is a 6 course meal, divorce, a three day gobble.
A family death, a side of beef, two deaths, I start to wobble.
It wouldn’t be a problem save I’ve reached that magic place;
my scale’s run out of numbers, I don’t recognize my face.
I need to be more happy, I must crack the sadness code.
Cuz if I’m mopey one more week, I swear I will explode