The Logical Pink Gizmo & The Gingerbread Man

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The smell of the sick
A nauseating splatter
It scrapes it cracks and clatters
An empty Silver platter
Its mottled and its tabby
I dont know who to blame
A logical pink gizmo
Spitting it out soft noises
Its a magician of sort
Conjures up the next world
People on pedestals are taking turns
To be god taking turns to be god
Theres alternating stitches running through your heard
Through my head
It can run but it cant hide
No point picking up the pace
My legs are kind of weak
But I will catch you soon
Setting up a trap or two
For that sapid gingerbread man
It can run but it cant hide
Yes it will crumble soon
And by then ill be sane
A ruse a sham a trick a trap
The gingerbread man's last stop
It scapes it cracks it clicks and clacks
The empty silver platter
Its raw its sweet and sour spit
The gingerbread man's luscious taste
The jelly chunks and slags of meat
the scent attracts the rats and worms
And im a magician of sort
I conjure up the next world
People on pedestals are taking turns
To be god taking turns
To be GOD
Bloody hell
It can run but it cant hide
No point picking up the pace
My legs are kind of weak
But i will catch you soon
Setting up a trap or two
For that sapid gingerbread man
It can run but it cant hide
Yes it will crumble soon
And by then ill be sane