I'm feeling a tad bit worse
More than just a little sick
Root around inside your purse
Find something to help me quick
There isn't time, there isn't hope
I won't be fine, the answer's no
Say goodbye, I have to go
Exactly why, I'll never know
I'm thinking that it was the burger
Cooked to order, medium rare
Death and my stomach have made a merger
And no one really seems to care
I ate it boys, it's not your fault
I've lost my voice, finish your malt
Enemies rejoice, at end result
Not my first choice, this gut assault
Tell the family when you get home
That I am sorry for their hearts I broke
My dying words come in a groan
'Well, at least I didn't choke'
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