Well, I know what I’ll be eatin’ tonight,
but first I gotta pry it off that site.
It’s out there on asphalt I find my fare;
when I cook it up, I ain’t gonna share.
Cows ain’t gastronomy that’ll be delight
in my pan. . .
stuck on—the vittles—Route 2.

Yes, they’re stuck on—the vittles—Route 2,
and I ain’t gonna slather ’em with roux.
Get a possum I’ll bring back to my place—
I'll fry it up and then stuff it in my face.
Now I’m gettin’ hungry; roadkill is delight. . .
no oat bran!
Stuck on—the vittles—Route 2.

Raccoon started out, got done in
by some Yuppies in an upscale van.
For a short time it was crawlin’,
but it croaked—now a buffet.
Feed, feed.

No need to go to a shopping mall
to grab grub as long as vehicles don’t stall.
There is food aplenty to go and score—
I can’t think of what else cars are good for.
Cows ain’t gastronomy for my plate tonight. . .
not my pan.
Stuck on—the vittles—Route 2.

The mutt barked once, then got done in
by some punk band in a grungy van.
For a short time it was crawlin’,
but it croaked—now a buffet.
Feed, feed.

Well, I know what I’ll be eatin’ tonight. . .
take my shovel down to that roadkill site.
It’s out there on asphalt I find my fare,
pry it off and take it back to my lair.
Down and out, that kitty that’ll be delight
in my pan. . .
stuck on—the vittles—Route 2.
It ain’t duck à l’orange that I’ll chew.
I’ll pluck off vittles from 2.
Them that duck ain’t the vittles I’ll chew.
Ducking, some vittles—I rue.