That's Not Blood, It's Ketchup
Eyes up, sweetie
Framed in spontaneity
Throw on that big smile
One your own mother don't see
Dunk it in that old Southern charm
"How are y'all today..."
Dull eyes stare past unwavering fervor
Just apathetic enough to sting
You're a servant
Uneducated slum, no good at nothin'
They curse, they holler. Insinuate.
"Can I get you anything else, ma'am..."
Sugar coat that greasy slop
Upsale, upgrade, bring on the mob
Hide behind a cigarette when its done
Holes in your shoes and belly
As you kiss those designer jeans
"I'm sorry for the mistake, sir..."
Smear powder on those baggy circles
Cream on all the grease burns
Hands of eighty by twenty
Once well manicured
Paint your face, squeeze into the push up
"Why, thank you so much..."
This can't be all
Dreams beyond this hole
Swore up and down this wouldn't happen
But years come quickly, hopes set aside
Lose everything, try again
"I should be graduating..."
Want to have a purpose
Beyond fryers and customer service
I could be anything they said
Instead I hide my brains
Beneath a labeled hat
"Oh, and would you like fries with that?"