In the dead of night, under a cosmic veil,
Greys descend, their hunger to unveil,
Silent saucers hover, beaming up the prey,
In the kitchen of the cosmos, humans are the entrée.
Silent screams in the ship's metallic halls,
Aliens in aprons, their victims sprawled,
Probes and knives, they slice and dice,
Creating cosmic cuisine, seasoned with vice.
Human tartare with a side of fear,
Eyeball stew, it's their chef's premier,
Ribs of terror, cooked medium rare,
In the galactic banquet, humans beware.
Brain pate with a sinister twist,
Fingers fried with a crunchy crisp,
Heart carpaccio, served cold and blue,
Aliens delight in their human stew.
Garnished with dread, marinated in fright,
Their menu's a horror, served under starlight,
With each abduction, their cookbook grows,
In this alien kitchen, terror flows.
Butchers in space, with a chef's precision,
Harvesting humans, it's their twisted mission,
Galactic gourmands with a taste for flesh,
Every dish a nightmare, devilishly fresh.
From the fields of Earth to the stars above,
Humans are the main course, fit for their love,
On platters of pain, with sides of screams,
Aliens feast on earthly dreams.
So if you see the lights, and hear the hum,
Run from the saucers, don't be dumb,
For in the galaxy's darkest corners, they dine,
On the flesh of humans, in a feast so divine.