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Breakfast

This is the song with all the things in it
This song was written to impress Jodie Foster
Oh baby, work it all night long

That bottle of Aunt Jemima better stop talking to me
She’s making too much goddamned sense
She says, “How’d you get your head to be so big
And your body to be so little?”

And I don’t have the heart to rip her head off
And pour syrup on my pancakes
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck
You’re not my problem — I’m my problem

“Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?” he said
“Rosanna Arquette doesn’t look like a thing like Madonna
And you’d have to be a moron
To desperately seek either one.”

This tattoo won’t come off
I thought it was the lick ’em/stick ’em kind
But I couldn’t figure out what that machine was for
Or why I was in so much pain

That bottle of Aunt Jemima better stop talking to me
She’s making too much goddamned sense
I’m really stoned and I think Mom
Put acid in my orange juice again

“You big huge phallic representation of mankind”
She says to my juice glass
And she turns on me and says something about
How she hates being a stupid fucking racial stereotype

Fuck yeah

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