Brioche man Won’t you hurry Because I’m tired of this grease For a golden pound Won’t you bring back All that tenderness to my skin Soft buttery balls, you carry Combray’s steeples, madeleines, poor weak Proust Brioche man Met a double-faced sponge On a bullying London’s road Lost my charity When I found it It had turned to sugary fake jam Soft buttery balls, you carry Cold Pantheon, impressionism, rich real Zola Brioche man You’re the answer Which makes my hunger disappear Brioche man Because I am consumed By those double-faced sponges I hear Brioche man Won’t you hurry Because I’m tired of turning heads which disappear Brioche man I long for the soft brain of your crumbly balls They soak damp from houses and autumn leaves Can your brioches absorb the pain for me? Brioche man...
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AuthorUnknown Archives
April 2020
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