A lie ain't nothing for the state of Texas to Tell

Sitting in a Texas Pen
Fed like it’s 1908
For we are given skimpy trays
So we have to lick the plate

They try to say we are well fed
I tell you that’s a lie
Tortillas to hide our scrambled eggs
Make grown men want to cry

One hot dog on our largest part
Slot two slices of bread
The last three slots will stop your heart
So you might just wake up dead

I’ve eaten better homeless
And I’m not too proud to say
I’ve had more food out of dumpsters
Then what Stiles puts on your tray

I came here weighing 222
I now weigh 151
The only way that I’ll get more food
Annie get your gun

No these are not my greatest words
But I’m about the starve to death
I’ve seen people feed more to birds
But in Texas, I’m out of breath