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The Race to No where
As the juices rush down the sides,
I choose the first piece of temptation
I decide the fate of one victor
It know it’s won but not why he's winning
The others on plates look in shock,
They still are sitting, there temperature has dropped
The rib-eye was first he knows he has won,
Stabbed in his body he's confused yet know its done
The winner has won, by ending in “great taste!”
No going back, he doesn’t want to be a waste.
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This is about food at a dinner out at a restaurant.