Breakfast Boo-Ga-Loo

Ooh, I take my breakfast, consisting of, two eggs and a crips bacon fry
With a cup of strong coffee, full up to the brim
So I can float my queen Mary dry
Like little Jack Horner, gonna sit in the corner and take the lady of the guitar in my life
Try'n put my passion in the freezer, before i get another seizure
And go back to bed holding her tight, for the rest of the night

Those charming young demoiselles on the boulevard Saint Germain
Flirting with the patron saints
While Kerouac's and Ginsberg's bedrolls hold the creases
From the first class compartments in trains
Well I've got to be quick, can't you see that I'm a jet-aged, spaced kind of travelling dharma bum
I've gotta play fourteen more cities, and it seems such a pity
To leave here while I'm having fun, seems it's only just begun

Those shoe-string disciples from the temples of Krishna
Shake collection boxes in my face
And those telephone Romeos keep phoning up my lady
And I start pretending to ache
But she turns me on in circles that she learned from some dixie-jive, gypsy-boy in between frowns
You want to hear her swear how her love is head and shoulders way above
Anything that ever got her two feet off the ground, while I was around