You ask me if salt is good
I say let’s ask the pickled food
The muscle might want to share its thoughts
You ask me if the knife is good
I placed the surgeon’s knife
near the butcher’s knife
Butcher’s knife frowned back on me
I cut that’s my job said the knife to me
Blame the fellow who used me
I cut said the butcher to me
Ask the people who buy from me
My thoughts turned to the murdered souls
No, not the ones who were cut for food
Why was the knife used for murder so?
You ask me if the knife is good
I leave you with a knife that killed for good!
You ask me if salt is good
The pickle and the muscle might agree not
The sugar says forget me not!
