Mr. Smith

Mr. Smith makes tacos wearing red uniform

This small place is full of people

The men order a large sized

One and for girls, there's a medium

But I can eat a whole large-sized one

Anyway there is Eric who often drop in

He visits in alone almost everyday

But he doesn't look too lonely

And he knows too many things

Smith likes to hear his stories

Oh, Smith

Did Eric come today?

Oh, Smith

What kind of secrets did he spill to you this time?

I like to stare when he cooks

Even though it's tiny food I can see clear

Rules between them

Smiths moves calmly in sequence

When I'm looking at I feel like

As if I watch sports doin' alone

It's yummy whatever he cooks

Especially it goes perfect with coke

But I have a little problem

There are awful herbs in tacos

Smith doesn't understand me

He doesn't understand me at all

Oh, Smith

Don't put the herbs in that I hate

Oh, Smith

I love you, but I'll kill you if you do that again