Writing - It's a Disease - Writing - It's a Disease - Writing - It's a Disease 컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴� Strictly頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰By James Hetfield 頰頰頰頰�Text頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰�"The Hungry Men"頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰� 頰頰頰頰頰頰頰Distribution頰Issue Three頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰 컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴� Writing - It's a Disease - Writing - It's a Disease - Writing - It's a Disease I We are the hungry men We are the stuffed men Sitting together Plates full with pasta. Alas! Our dried napkins, when we chew together Are quiet and meaningless As cream in dark coffee Or crying over spilled milk In our dry bakery Shape without form, shade without color, fallen bread, cakes without icing: Those who have crossed With fathomed eyes, to the bakery's other Kingdom Remember us - if at all - not as lost Violent bakers, but only As the hungry men The stuffed men. II Donuts I dare not eat in dreams In Candyland's dream kingdom These do not appear: There, the bread is baked on a broken bread rack There, is a gumdrop swinging And sugar is In the pastry's filling More scrumptious and more sweet Than an apple pie. Let me be no nearer In Candyland's dream kingdom Let me also eat such deliberate desserts Ice Cream, Chocolate, Crossed Popsicles In a store Behaving as the bakery behaves No sweeter- Not that final meeting In the pastry kingdom III This is the Bakery Land This is Candy Land Here the gingerbread images Are raised, here they reveive The reeces pieces of a worker's hand Under the smell of an apple pie. Is it like this In pastry's other kingdom Eating alone At the hour when we are munching with hunger pangs Lips that would kiss Form prayers to broken twinkies. IV The eggs are not here There are no eggs here In this valley of dying poultry IN this hungry valley This half-eaten omlet of our lost chickens. In this last of eating places We gorge together And avoid speech Gathered on this plate of the china set Restless, unless The forks reappear As the perpetual pastry Multifoliate frosting rose Of sugar's twilight kingdom The hope only of empty calories. Here we go round the bakers square Bakers square bakers square Here we go round the bakers square At seven o'clock in the morning. Between the HoHos And the cupcakes Between the sno balls And the zingers Falls the twinkies For thine is the King Pastry Between the cookies And the cakes All the sugars with sweet surprize; All the things I like to bake Falls the twinkies Life is very sweet Between the apple pie And the pumpkin pie Between the cherry pie And the lemon meringue pie Between the key lime pie And the strawberry rhubarb pie Falls the twinkies For thine is the King Pastry For Thine is Life is For Thine is Baklava This is the way the breakfast ends This is the way the breakfast ends This is the way the breakfast ends Not with a bang but a clogged artery. [�File 03頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰�] [頰頰頰頰�3878 bytes頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰] [頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰�The Hungry Men頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰] [頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰�By James Hetfield頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰�] [頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰�04/14/95頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰] [頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰�] [ This poem was a parody of T.S. Eliot's "The Hollow Men" ]