Bougie Kroger: Artisanal Aisle Aspirations

Lyrics

The automatic doors just sigh... climate-controlled.No chaos in the cart return... a story to be told.The lighting is recessed here, the floor is polished gray.No buzzing fluorescents to steal the calm away.The apples form a pyramid, a study in red and green.The most serene commercial space I think I've ever seen.This isn't the old Lindbergh station, not the one from back in the day.This is the curated answer for what you want to say.Oh, the artisanal aisle is calling out my name.It's a quiet, respectable, high-protein game.Every single avocado is perfect for today.Here at the Bougie Kroger, we smooth the mess away.Kombucha on tap, in a dozen different hues.A triple-hopped IPA to cure the Tuesday blues.Himalayan pink salt in a hand-carved grinder block.Organic micro-arugula, a gentle price-tag shock.Was this cheese from a goat who was read poetry?The packaging implies it, and that's good enough for me.Oh, the artisanal aisle is calling out my name.It's a quiet, respectable, high-protein game.Every single avocado is perfect for today.Here at the Bougie Kroger, we smooth the mess away.We push our silent, gliding carts down these wide, uncluttered lanes.Pretending that a perfect pantry washes out the city's stains.From Buckhead Towers, we descend for truffle oil and wine.A little piece of paradise, so polished and benign.The payment is contactless.The paper bag is thick.My cart doesn't have a wobbly wheel...It knows the trick.We smooth the mess away... We smooth the mess away...