מעי מתפוצצים

My Lower Intestines Explode

Where is Maggie, to grace us with her
                  Pray for what food we could be eating
                                        A M E N ,
She spoke softly in the background
Her voice
           (She was) stuttering, has silenced
A stern patriarch voice has been raised
    Along with the bowl of bisque
        And a clenched fist (these fingers appear now as steel nails)
                (I am) shattered, now bleeding

And we have no where            to run.