And you get baloney from how?

Bologna’s a city known for sausage
That disavows any knowledge
Of what goes on down those sketchy
Dark streets where meat and pavement meet
Flattened circles of curious content
Salt to make your blood pressure blush
Fatten up rolls on your welling waist
Flabby tattooing going on with you
Like the casing edge torn with your teeth
That rolls out skin folding over on itself
Strangled in the middle by a biting belt
That used to fit now let out to its last notch
Cutting in with mustard and cheese
Inviting lettuce wilted on mayo sloshed white bread
Boast the clandestine whisper of Mangia Mangia
Not unlike inflaming mites
Burrowing into a dog’s skin
A fine mash of maybe meat bobs and bits
Mushed bone and whatnot pushed through a tube
Extruded the same way your intestines will toil
Your bowels groaning all the while like rusted cogs grinding
Rendering a nasty display of your meat collage
All universal yumminess come from the secret side of town
With an unapplied name that reeks worldwide renown