猫又おかゆ (Nekomata Okayu) – ノンデリシャス (Non Delicious) Lyrics (English Translation)

🍽️ [Verse 1: The Trauma Meal]
Today we’re chewing, chewing—one, two, three.
My tongue is dancing too—one, two, three.
A borscht slow-cooked from all my trauma—take a taste.
Your heart’s already covered up in bite marks.

🍔 [Pre-Chorus: The Unappetizing Menu]
A spiteful steak and selfish & chips,
A salad chopped from monotony.
This table tastes too good tonight, so don’t disturb it—
Open wide now, here comes the bite.

🧑‍🍳 [Chorus: The Craving for These Flavors]
Waiter, waiter, don’t you clear the plates away—
These are the only flavors that I crave.
Hungry, lonely gluttony—a brand new special.
Everybody quiet, quiet—you’ve been waiting.

🎶 [Post-Chorus]
Delicious, delicious—
Delicious, delicious.
Kick that terrible table over.
Every day, every night—don’t devour it all.
Non-delicious, I’ll still ask for more.

🥧 [Verse 2: The Tower of Plates]
Stack the plates up—three, four, five—
Like Babel rising—three, four, five.
Even when it catches in my throat, I’m choking hard—
They say grown-ups just swallow it down. Amazing.

🥪 [Pre-Chorus: The Unordered Dishes]
A two-tongued steak, a duty-bound sandwich,
A soup where all the passion’s gone cold.
I never ordered any of that.
I’ll just eat the things I love and nothing more.

🌟 [Chorus: Defending Delicious Days]
Starving, starving—bring it without end.
These are my delicious days to defend.
After swallowing every doubt and protest down,
Challenge it—diet, diet.

Single-minded chewing, chewing on absurdity,
With a lazy smile painted on my face.
Chewing, chewing—always chewing.
Everybody quiet, quiet—you’ve been waiting.

🎶 [Post-Chorus]
Delicious, non-delicious—
Delicious, non-delicious.
Kick that terrible table over.
Every day, every night—don’t gorge yourself.
Non-delicious—let’s go back for more.

🥘 Lyrics Meaning & Emotional Core

“Non Delicious” is a clever and cathartic anthem about rejecting forced positivity and embracing one’s own complex, sometimes painful, emotional truth. The dinner table becomes a stage where society serves up its expectations, and the speaker decides what they will and will not consume.

• Core Theme: The Meal as a Metaphor for Life
  The song’s central conceit is that life is a meal we are forced to eat. But the dishes served are not always to our taste. The speaker catalogs them: a “borscht slow-cooked from all my trauma” (pain we’ve internalized), a “spiteful steak” (anger), “selfish & chips” (greed), a “salad chopped from monotony” (the dullness of routine). This is the menu of existence, and the waiter (society, fate, expectation) keeps bringing more.

• The Heart with Bite Marks
  The first verse ends with a striking image: “Your heart’s already covered up in bite marks.” This suggests that the beloved, or perhaps the speaker themselves, has already been wounded by life, by love, by the very meals they’ve been forced to consume. The heart is not pristine; it’s scarred, bitten into by experience.

• Forced Feeding
  The pre-chorus warns, “This table tastes too good tonight, so don’t disturb it—Open wide now, here comes the bite.” This is the pressure to accept what’s given, to swallow without complaint, to pretend everything is delicious. The speaker is being force-fed a version of reality they didn’t order.

• Craving the Real
  In the chorus, the speaker tells the waiter not to clear the plates. These “are the only flavors that I crave.” This is a declaration of ownership over their own pain and experience. They are not asking for a different meal; they are demanding to be allowed to finish the one they have, because it’s theirs. “Hungry, lonely gluttony” is a “brand new special”—a state of being that society might pathologize, but the speaker claims as their own.

• Kick the Table Over
  The post-chorus is a moment of rebellion: “Kick that terrible table over.” But immediately, the speaker adds, “Non-delicious, I’ll still ask for more.” This is the paradox. The meal is terrible, but it’s their meal. They won’t devour it all (lose themselves in it), but they will keep returning to it, asking for more of this non-delicious truth.

• The Tower of Babel Plates
  The second verse introduces the image of stacking plates like the Tower of Babel. This is the accumulation of experience, obligation, and expectation rising higher and higher, reaching toward something—perhaps understanding, perhaps collapse. The speaker chokes on it, but “grown-ups just swallow it down.” This is a bitter commentary on adulthood: the expectation that you will consume whatever is put in front of you without complaint.

• The Unordered Dishes
  The second pre-chorus lists more unwanted courses: “two-tongued steak” (lies, duplicity), a “duty-bound sandwich” (obligation), “a soup where all the passion’s gone cold” (relationships or work that have lost their heat). The speaker’s response is defiant: “I never ordered any of that. I’ll just eat the things I love and nothing more.” This is the assertion of agency, the refusal to consume what does not nourish.

• Defending Delicious Days
  The final chorus reframes the struggle. The speaker is “starving”—not for food, but for authentic experience. They will defend their “delicious days” against the pressure to swallow doubt and protest. The “single-minded chewing on absurdity” with a “lazy smile” is a powerful image of persistence in the face of meaninglessness. They keep chewing, keep processing, keep living.

• The Paradox of Non-Delicious
  The final post-chorus repeats the oxymoron: “Delicious, non-delicious.” The speaker has reached a place where the two are no longer opposites. The non-delicious—the painful, the absurd, the unwanted—has become, in its own way, delicious. It is real. It is theirs. And they will always go back for more.

In essence, “Non Delicious” is a rebellion against the tyranny of false positivity. It refuses to pretend that the meal of life is always tasty, that trauma is a delicacy, that monotony is a treat. Instead, it embraces the full menu—the spiteful, the selfish, the cold, the absurd—and finds in that embrace a strange, sustaining nourishment. The table may be terrible, but it’s the only one we have. And the speaker will keep kicking it, keep chewing, keep asking for more. Non-delicious, I’ll still ask for more.