If you want to serve me
that piece of your mind
smoothed in a juicy tantrum
blended in a quarrel-maker,
sift the milk and shake
the attitude out of it,
wait for it to cool down
until the fury is dissolved
into a cream of tolerance,
then refrigerate it:
I wouldn't mind it frozen,
So that I should lick it like ice cream
as I scream "best served chill!"
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