Untitled partial rewrite of "Child Of The Wind," started by Rob Caldwell/added to by Peter Klausler
Big old potato in a small grocery store
sometimes it takes up three aisles,
sometimes it takes more
Hear the spud moan, on my methane-fuled range,
It's frying in deep fat, bubbling and strange,
I'm too old for this food, but I'll eat it anyway,
And then I'll have wind till the end of my days.