Moka Pot

1

Watch me strut, strut, as I’m eatin’ my donut.
There’s no one home to tell me that I cannot.
Stove is on, and I’m making it real hot.
Cooking up cafe in my moka pot.

Strut, strut, as I’m eatin’ my donut.
There’s no one home to tell me that I cannot.
Sugary powder with jelly in the middle,
these sweet pastries got me playin’ like a fiddle.

Strut, Strut, as I’m eatin’ my donut.
There’s no one home, so I’m doin’ what I want.
Dressed like a bum and showered, I have not.
Cooking up cafe in my moka pot.

Watch me Strut, Strut.

Espresso

13

This morning, as I was sipping my espresso,
I thought, “Hey, Let’s write a song about espresso.”
But the daily post said “Release.”
and I just cannot write that with ease.

This morning I was drinking my espresso.
Black and foamy, giving a release,
the sandman rudely taunting me,
the clock’s ticking, being such a tease.

I can’t remember if I even showered,
or what just happened to that last hour.
But the detection of a dark roast aroma,
has my mind feeling caffeinated power.

So, thick, you’d think it was oil,
if not for that foamy orange ring,
So much bite – it might bite your throat!
and leave your body sha-shaking.

The day wore on, the body wore out.
I couldn’t make it half past four.
I dropped my bags, as I walked through the door,
and “espress’d” me another cup more.

My love came down, we walked around town,
Her perfume had me feeling alright.
Then, against my better wisdom, I bought another cup,
I’m now I’m gonna be shaking all night.

So, thick, you’d think it was oil,
if not for that foamy orange ring,
so much bite – it might bite your throat!
and leave your body sha-shaking.

*Please, drink espresso responsibly! 😉