Our Pizza Man

When your pizza man
Looks like a saint
And in dream
Reality aint

But in dreams
The face denies
All the lies
You become faint

If mozzarel
Is too squishy
And your gullet
Lacks washy wishy

But you can speak
With a maestro
Who for all you know
Controls your gullet

Accept the taste
Consume what is possible
Avoid any waste
Eat the impossible

For the highest priests
Must feed their flocks
With the blood of beasts
And hard knocks