BREAKFAST OF CHAMPIONS
The breakfast of champions today
Fails to mask the bitter taste
Punchlines mistimed, affections misplaced
Loss of cool, loss of nerve, loss of face
Rewrite last night with a nine-hand shake
Loathe it or hate it, that’s the choice you’ve got to make
Where’s the glitter in the gutter, the gloomer of glam?
It’s taken me an eternity to understand
‘Nothing lasts forever’ - POW! BAM!
Count your friends on the toes of one hand
Spray paint your achievements on a grain of sand
Collapse into a chaos meticulously planned
Like the breakfast of champions, your audience’s laughter is canned
Street party Mardi Gras; you didn’t get an invite
They smile and see you out; lie, “It’s an oversight”
It ssssssssssssucks but you don’t bite
Your mouth’s too loose when you’re too tight
They turn you out, turn away and turn off the light
And you fold into the shadows of the night
You’re the bad mood parachute crashing down their good time venue
But the breakfast of champions remains your menu
I used to drop names but, one by one, the names dropped me
In the glass and steel jungle I’m at the top of the soli-tree
My portrait will never hang in the In Vogue Gallery
I want to go home, wherever that may be
That may be
about
Yes, it's a one-track compilation album for the easily-distracted and quickly-bored.
If you're into that 'reading the lyrics' thing, or warbling along to the song, here are the words:
BREAKFAST OF CHAMPIONS
The breakfast of champions today
Fails to mask the bitter taste
Punchlines mistimed, affections misplaced
Loss of cool, loss of nerve, loss of face
Rewrite last night with a nine-hand shake
Loathe it or hate it, that’s the choice you’ve got to make
Where’s the glitter in the gutter, the gloomer of glam?
It’s taken me an eternity to understand
‘Nothing lasts forever’ - POW! BAM!
Count your friends on the toes of one hand
Spray paint your achievements on a grain of sand
Collapse into a chaos meticulously planned
Like the breakfast of champions, your audience’s laughter is canned
Street party Mardi Gras; you didn’t get an invite
They smile and see you out; lie, “It’s an oversight”
It ssssssssssssucks but you don’t bite
Your mouth’s too loose when you’re too tight
They turn you out, turn away and turn off the light
And you fold into the shadows of the night
You’re the bad mood parachute crashing down their good time venue
But the breakfast of champions remains your menu
I used to drop names but, one by one, the names dropped me
In the glass and steel jungle I’m at the top of the soli-tree
My portrait will never hang in the In Vogue Gallery
I want to go home, wherever that may be
That may be
credits
released March 31, 2022
Written, performed and produced by Doug Murphy & Paul Hamilton
Mastered by Si Beex
Graphic image by Halal Mop Unit, incorporating photography by Smudger Mick
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