Microwave class in session, yo…

Science of the snack, baby…

Hot Pocket physics, let’s go!

Hot pocket in my hand, danger in disguise,

Edges burn my tongue while the center still cries,

One bite magma, the next bite ice,

Thermal distribution never playin’ nice.

Gourmet roulette, I roll the dice,

Blistered lips, but damn it tastes right.

Fold it in a sleeve, but they took it away,

Now it’s chaos theory in my microwave.

Hot Pocket physics, molten rim, frozen core,

Take a bite, don’t know what’s in store.

It’s a science experiment every single night,

Mouth burnin’ left, frostbite on the right.

Quantum snaccin’, entropy snack,

Spin the plate, never heat exact.

Pocket’s half supernova, half glacier cave,

Every stoner scholar knows you gotta be brave.

Try the fork test, steam escapes fast,

Nibble on the edges, make the middle last.

But no matter the tricks, it’s always the same,

Thermal chaos is the pocket’s game.

Hot Pocket physics, molten rim, frozen core,

Take a bite, don’t know what’s in store.

Blow on the corner, pray for a cure,

Science of the snack is never pure.

(Left side burnin’)

(Right side chillin’)

I just want balance… but the pocket ain’t willin’.

Hot or cold, I still come back,

Addicted to the science of a microwave snack.

Class dismissed…

Remember kids… blow before you bite.

Hot Pocket physics, baby…