I have a need, this growing thirst it must be quenched or I will burst --but my thirst is not the liquid kind, however it is luscious toast for which I pine... a slice of rye, or loaf of brown glass of milk to wash it down some toast I need to sop my wounds blackened grain for every mood a crispy breastplate for my soul stacked upon a plate with rolls yes, I crave toast in all its myriad form singed so glorious every morn toast to slather, toast to butter a crusted sister, a raisined brother --why, if I had toast instead of family then christmas would pass quite crunchily [guitar solo shreds] I call for jams, I cry for jelly! clear some room within my belly! coax the honey, rouse nutella! Mr. Toasty is a hungry fella! I walk through life - not living - inside a dream of toasted angels with crumbèd wings while my toaster sleeps 'neath stars that gleam I prithee wake me when it dings