"...limits"

I so really miss Coney Island, and Nathan's.

They been shoving Hot dawgs

into us for over 100 years.

Buying the stuff at market'n cooking

 at home ain't da same.

There has to be some sand in it. 

That, and the sounds of waves radios 

drunken brawls, and lots of stoned happy laughing.

It's like going to da movies, and not getting popcorn.

There a place for everything.

Nathan's place is at the bleeping Beach.

I just hope it's still there

when this damned Plague is really over.

This is the third damned summer since me'n Bob da Bunny 

ate dawgs, and drank root beer on da Boardwalk.

Com'on there's limits.