These aisles are empty
Like a desert inside
They're fit for the king
Of the grocery store night
Just me, myself, and I
We're three pretty nice guys
The impromptu lords
When the moon is high
My cans
My bread
My wine
My beer
My chips
My snacks
All mine, here
When I must rest
And lay down to close my eyes
The people come in
And steal the food
I wake with pity
And a heartbroken soul
For I must rebuilt my empire
And reclaim what they stole
With boxcutter in hand
And pride in soul
I restock my kingdom
In these grocery store halls