Thinking of sweetness, stuffed myself even more Afraid it'd run out, had to get even more Dripping with honey, ran to store even more Gorging, got nauseous, vomited everywhere I thought that full was something better Detestable is how it feels Why must this be？ The honey used to taste delightful Was it a poison actually There to trap me？ Am I cursed？ I've slighted no one And I'm sure I know myself The best so something's not right This self is the only thing I love To hear, to smell, to see, to touch To taste is irreplaceable, no less