| Sitting in the breakfast nook
|
| Flipping through a saucy book
|
| Browsing for a bit of titillation
|
| (That's what you do, that’s what you do)
|
| Morning is warming
|
| On your mouth
|
| Last days of direct sunlight
|
| For this part of the house
|
| Move into the great room
|
| Get the clean corn broom
|
| Sweeping up a sad old pillar of salt
|
| (That's what you do, that’s what you do)
|
| You’re feeling glummer
|
| As summer dies off
|
| Something was released
|
| With autumn’s first cough
|
| Matter seems immaculate
|
| Until it’s consumed or distressed
|
| See her with her kitchen soap
|
| Cleaning up the breakfast she knows
|
| It’s never finished
|
| 'Till the other’s replenished
|
| It’s never finished
|
| 'Till the other’s replenished
|
| Propped up on the mantel piece
|
| Throphies stuffed in a life that flies
|
| A couple of seconds can be a long time
|
| If’n it’s froze, if’n it’s froze
|
| Matter seems immaculate
|
| Until it’s consumed or distressed
|
| See her with her kitchen soap
|
| Cleaning up the breakfast she knows
|
| It’s never finished
|
| 'Till the other’s replenished
|
| It’s never finished
|
| 'Till the other’s replenished |