The Brioche Man's Song

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...