“Who put the olives next to the sweet potatoes?” he asked. No greeting. No hello. Just a zoning violation.
If this is a lyric, you need to lean into the "Yankee" contrast—think fast-paced, East Coast flow vs. a more laid-back style. my only bitchy cousin is a yankeetype guy the exclusive
“Southerners,” he said, gesturing at the dancing crowd, “you all cry at funerals and hug at airports. You wear your hearts on your sleeves. I wear mine in a safety deposit box. It’s not better. It’s just… the only way I know.” “Who put the olives next to the sweet potatoes