Staring me in the eyes,
Covered in fruit flies,
I try but I cannot flee,
From the muffin flavored Blueberry.

The muffins fly across the sky,
Attacks so painful,
With dastardly ranges.
The grisly beast made of yeast,
I guess it’s true what they say;
War never changes.

I grab one, I grab two,
It’s harder than the thought of you,
With these crumbs on my jacket,
It’s hard to throw the one called Chocolate.

The muffins fly across the sky,
Attacks so painful,
With dastardly ranges.
The grisly beast made of yeast.
I guess it’s true what they say;
War never changes.

The attacks are so horrible,
The situation is deplorable,
There’s no time to make a plan,
Just grab the muffin made of Bran.

The muffins fly across the sky,
Attacks so painful,
With dastardly ranges.
The grisly beast made of yeast.
I guess it’s true what they say;
War never changes.

As I reach across the table,
I feel it’s too unstable,
But when I try to go around,
My weapon is stolen by old Mrs. Brown.

The muffins fly across the sky,
Attacks so painful
With dastardly ranges.
The grisly beast made of yeast.
I guess it’s true what they say;
War never changes.

Suddenly, to my surprise,
Mrs. Brown looks in my eyes,
She takes the muffin, the one called Bran,
and lays it gently in my hand.

The muffins fly across the sky,
Attacks so painful,
With dastardly ranges.
The grisly beast made of yeast.
I guess it’s true what they say;
War never changes.