Belgium is pretty much like the waffles.
You walk along, the ground’s got symmetric dents.
Occasionally, people throw blueberries at you.
Most of the drive-by killings in Belgium are berries from the berry gangs. People’ll roll down their window and you’ll be all like, “Fruit of the Loom Guys?” or “Carmen Miranda??”
And then bang, it’s the berry for you.
The rain is whipped to soft white cream, in Belgium.
People can buy property real easy, in Belgium.
People cook the land until it’s done ’cause you don’t want raw land in Belgium, and it’s just like the waffles, more or less, there in Belgium.
And every street in the grid is square but the city’s round and its edge is flared, oh it’s just like the waffles and the fruit to live in Belgium.