YWG, post-security check rant

I feel the tear stream down my cheek
When she takes that jar away from me
She does not know just what it means
To contain the world's finest salsa recipe.

Made of fresh chipotle and raspberry
By the hands of the son of José Madrid
To have it back, I beg, I plead
But this reasonable request she does not heed!

She throws it into the trash bin, you see
Just doin' her job as airport security
An all this really does get to me
Cause it's getting so tight I can hardly breathe.
It's getting so tight I can hardly breathe.

What's the harm, this jar is so tiny
Seal isn't broken, edges aren't pointy
They allowed me travel with food last week
But this case offers nothing she'll hear from me.

"These are the rules Ma'am, it's all routine
No pastes, no drinks, no liquidries
Can you Imagine if each Tom, Dick and Harry
Wanted each forbidden item set free?"

The morning sun rises, it's five thirty-three
I'm fragile in state and my eyes are sleepy
I've had just enough of this power-trip scene
Cause it's gotten so tight I can hardly breathe
It's gotten so tight I can hardly breathe