Eating cold mac and cheese
With Scooby Doo shapes
Out of a pot with a spoon
In my pajamas at 1000 am
The air fresh, The day young
The American way of life
Gluttonous in our daily wealth
In lesser countries they hunger
Not knowing Scooby Doo
Or the wonders of television bliss
What becomes of our egos
As we forget world suffrage
I pause to be grateful and humble
Blessed is my contented stomach
The shapes fill its depth warmly
Of the lesser homes I ponder
How they know not these pleasures
When it is all I have ever known
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