My cycles and wheels of cheese

Have turned throughout the years

Initially of Kraft singles, I found myself afeared

 

A yellow-tinted substrate fastened to the bread

It seems a clear conclusion, that we have been mislead

 

A plasticine monstrosity that some of us abhor

Is forgotten against the backdrop of that which I adore

 

To the kitchen I would creep, quiet as a mouse

And leave a trail of cheeto dust as I snuck back through the house

 

To great chagrin, lactose could not be a friend of mine

I think of cheese above me in the moon and how she shines