Cheese
The existential cheese, it stands alone.
Has no farmer to call its own.
Taken from its creaminess; by a mouse who could not resist.
And when the cheese looked around.
It saw itself, but all that was taken was gone.
So it stood alone and took it in, to find itself in existentialism.
Existential cheese, it stands alone.
Life is pain, it's god, only self it knows.
Singing; Hi-ho, the derry-o!
Introspective, longing, pitiful soul!
Now here was the cheese at the end of its rope,
Covered in wax, devoid of hope.
Seemingly left to be fed on by mold; a expanding fungus consuming grows.
And then the cheese, it felt around.
A completely helpless, stinky round.
It failed to make a single move.
It self-reflected, dread ensued.
Existential cheese, it stands alone.
Perceiving moments, thrusted at the tip of the cone.
Crying; Hi-ho, the derry-o!
A cheese at body with feelings and soul!
The farmer and his wife, you see,
had spent some time being hungry.
To them the cheese was to be better suited for filling their needs.
So to the cheese, they did return.
Drooling slightly, for cheese they yearned.
The couple consumed, engorged on cheese.
As it was eaten, it ached for nothing but to be free.
Existential cheese, it stands alone.
Death is pain, it's god, only self it knows.
Screaming; Hi-ho, the derry-o!
Existential cheese; once stood alone!
Hi-ho, the derry-o, The cheese stands alone.