The Sound of Splatter
(with apologies to Simon and Garfunkel)

Hello, des-sert, my old friend
Ilve come to play with you again
Because a pie that I was keeping
Left its mark while I was sleeping
And the torte that was planted on my face
Still remains
Within the sound of splatter

In restless dreams, I pie alone
With many pies of goo and foam
Within the halo of a pie hat
I want the touch of a big splat
When my eyes were stabbed by the smoosh of a key lime pie
That split the sky
And touched the sound of splatter

And through the creamy pie I gleaned
10,000 people all too clean
People looking without smiling
People standing without pieing
People making pies that no one ever shared
And no one dared
Disturb the sound of splatter

"Fools" said I, "You do not pie
Living fun-less ere you die
Hold my pies, that I might teach you,
Throw my pies, that I might reach you,"
But my pies, like silent raindrops fell
And echoed in the wells of splatter

And the people bowed and prayed
To the fun-less god they made
And the pies just sat the wai (ai) ting
To be used to stop the ha (a) ting
But the people said, "The pies of the prophets are dripping off the subway walls
In tenement halls
And whispered in the sound of splatter.