A fork is a cold shiny tool
To pierce, tear and ingest
Whoever has the fork in hand
Controls the meal of its choice
We`re told the first few punctures
They`re for our own good
Better carved up in pieces
Than blown up in the oven
Agh! Agh! Agh!
Forkboy
Flies by night on stolen fuel
To Santa Rosa, CA
Opens a fake employment office Send " I Am Your Clock" Ringtone to your Cell