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