By Unknown
Turning and turning the widening gyro The cook cannot hear the customer; Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the tortilla, The salsa-tinted tide is loosed, and everywhere The plates and silverware are drowned; The wrap lacks all conviction, while the filling Is full of passionate intensity.
Wouldn't you be emo if you were crying? Eh, whatever. I stopped caring about "emo" about six years ago.