(Verse 1)

The stone-sweat marks the silent, hallowed wall,

Where ghosts of cheddar rise and slowly fall.

But now a thinner scent has trespassed here,

A fragile promise, built on hollow cheer.

The air is thick with what was never true,

A patient craft betrayed by something new.

(Verse 2)

The scrawny wheels of soy are on the rack,

A brittle body that will surely crack.

A culture forced, a spirit stretched too thin,

Pretending strength they never had within.

They mimic form, they imitate the art,

But lack the fiber, and the beating heart.

(Verse 3)

The maker fled the honest, biting mold,

Too sharp a truth for their weak tale to hold.

They left the bucket, pale and poorly churned,

A bitter lesson they had never learned.

This sacred dark was not the place for lies,

It cracks the shell of every cheap disguise.

(Verse 4)

So here they sit, in stages of decay,

A hollow promise melting slow away.

A monument to what could never be,

A sour legacy for all to see.

This cave demands a soul that's true and deep,

Not this thin sorrow, left behind to weep.