"Woe to the oh baking beans,
for the cook sends a dish with wrath ,
for he knows that time is short
Let those who half reckon the cooking degrees
for it is a human number,
its number is Five hundred and fifty five."


I cooked alone,
my dish was blank
I needed time to think,
to get ingredients from my mind

What did I see, can I believe
that what I saw in the book
was real and not just fantasy?

Just what I saw,
in my own dish,
was a
reflections of my warped spoon staring back at me

Cause in my book
it's was always there
the evil recipe thats twist a judge
and beats him to despair

Delicious!!!

Bowl was black was no use stopping track
Cause I just had to see was the judges watching me?
With a twist,dark flavors move and twist
is this food for real or just some kind of delicious Hell?

Five, five five!
The Number of my Yeast!!!
Flavor! And style! was soon to be released..

Ovens blazed and sacred cooks were praised
as they start to cry spatchelas to the sky
In the oven fires are burning bright
the ritual has begun Emeril's work is done

Five,Five five!
The Number of my Yeast!!!
Cooking rice,is going on tonight...

This can't go on I must inform the judge
Can this still be real or some crazy dream,
but I feel drawn towards the evil chanting gordes
they seem to mesmerise me...cant avoid their eyes

Five, five five!
The Number of my Yeast!!!
Five, five five!
The one I will not eat

I'm coming back,I will return
And I'll possess your stomach and I'll make you burn,
I have the fire,I have the force
I have the power to make my alkaseltzer take its course