Southern metro cookin'

They had us in a fish fry
like sardines sweating those
remaining hours away before
a hand grabs and pulls them
toward God, like the can with
the curled up top that looks like
some satanic soda pop,
and the girls were grinding their
teeth all smiles, a group sang happy
birthday outside Arlington cemetary
which I found kinda funny
in way, I guessed for all the oil lost
and we boiled crispy and golden
until we hit the end of the line
which was just two slices
of white bread and a side of slaw
away from the Pentagon.