The m___in Man is seated at the table in the laboratory of the utility
m___in research kitchen,

Reaching for an oversize chrome spoon,
he gathers and intimate quantity of dried m___in remnants.

And brushing his scapular aside, proceeds to dump these inside
of his shirt.

He turns to us and speaks, "Some people like cupcakes better, I for one
care less for them."

Arrogantly twisting the sterile canvas snoot of a fully-charged icing
anointment utensil, he puts for a quarter ounce green rosette near, lets try that again, he puts for a quarter ounce green rosette near
the summit of a dance but radiant m___in, of his own design.

Later he says, "Some people, SOME PEOPLE like cupcakes exclusively while myself I
say there is not, nor art there be nothing so exhalted on the face of
god's grey earth, as that prince of foods, the m___in.

Girl, you thought he was a man, but he was a m___in.
he hung around till you found that he didn't know nothing.
Girl, you thought he was a man, but he only was a-puffin.
No cries is heard in the night, as a result of him stuffin'

Girl, you thought he was a man, but he was a m___in.
No cries is heard in the night, as a result of him stuffin'

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