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"Nothing good will ever happen because of the suburbs, only in spite of them."

The Mayor moved out to the suburbs
That's where his true heart lies
And everyone who lives here hates you now
We see the sideways glances
Tongues stuck out at right angles
At tastes they can't stand anymore

No garlic
No spice
No seasoning for your bland ideas
Mayo on white bread
In a pink ziploc bag
What pressure
What vice
What force took out your flavor?
What made you hate
The flavor that made you?

The allergy you harbor
That helps you keep at bay
The spice rack contained
From Boogie-Down to Rockaway
The affliction on your nose
That makes our sweet smell seem a reek
Still can not hide the simple fact
Our day beats your week

Trade your tang for a strip mall
Your secret recipe for a lawn
Someone will always be glad to take your spot in the melting pot
Don't worry about any damage
To the clean white shell you've made
There's nothing worthwhile inside to destroy


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