I save my breakfast for my bathroom break
I save my breakfast for the bath
I'm resurrected by a coffee cake, Mr. Bubble, and a country ham
But there's a breast of a chicken in an inch of oil frying in a frying pan
And with the help of a butter biscuit it may yet
Turn a several minute soak into an hour and a half
For my lunch I’ll have a steak a day for dessert I’ll have a tender baby calf
I cut my baby teeth on baconnaise, Mrs. Butterworth, and half and half
You declare it unhealthy when I eat my fill of triple burger on a doughnut bun
But with the wealth of a lipid I can fill myself
What you say may be true but isn’t any fun
Forty years I've been taking what I want myself but I’m not out trolling to find out what you’ll hand me
Though I hear civil liberties aren’t what they used to be I’m not open enough for understanding
I save my supper for the golden age the golden arches or corral
It doesn’t have to be a holiday, there doesn’t have to be a rationale
It could be years I may suffer I could kill myself
I don't need you to hold my hand
But if it's true what I eat is going to kill me young
I guess I better buckle down I’d better eat it fast
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