Mad Cow’s gut speaks to his brain
Synapses all on the wane
Cow needs a new route to his mouth
With everything still going south
What he eats, what he shits
An ocean of wit
Tea leaves as brain food
For the excremental dude
Gas straight across his bow
Elicits a thumb, a clap, a Wow
Gastric juices in his golden bowel
Or just another belly roll
Intestinal blocks are all the rage
Mad Cow grunts and turns the page
Happy his gut rules his head
Better spouting shit than being dead.
Mad Cow’s words form a cork and a screw
Twisted sisters in a barnyard brew
The fog engine turns, bristles and blows
Language at war, syntax the foe
Lip sync woes, words at stress
Mad Cow is his own caress
Another turn, another twist
Magic happens at the wrist
Subject yearns for the rest of the line
Predicate absent, out to dine
Verbs that move life along
Are in the weeds, a Mad Cow song
Nouns that held a building still
Are lost in Cow’s gut-filled will
Spaghetti slang straight from his lips
Limps, lumps and Freudian slips
Big words cover industrial land
The Greatest is written in Biblical sand
Cow wrestles with syntax, shuts down his brain
He wobbles around on a wobbly cane
Cow marks his passage his proverbial way
Winks at the suckers, everyone pays
His tongue and his brain are a cosmos apart
Cross your fingers, now time will start
Breathe in deeply, hold that air
Relax, you’re in Mad Cow’s Care.