Fresh Baked On The Morrow

Exotic food, exotic girl and so much more or less

Fresh Baked On The Morrow

Oysters jump at an opportunity to die

To be eaten before the tide comes rising

Directly from the sea before the shell

Before the dawn begins to smell of day

In the raw, in the sand, in good company

Is best when frolicking by the happy sea

The pretty girl comes dancing in

In curls of golden locks that spring

Wind fills her dress and mind of hollow

She sings merrily of imaginary beings

From the docks she takes her basket

Full of emptiness for idiots like you

Down winding streets goes Daisy tip toe

Pronouncing words unknown to her

That have meaning only to the lunatics

Lost souls on narrow streets who like to eat

It is a perfect time to sell her wears

A litany of exotic goods on sale

Barked out loud to catch the near by ear

“Hot breads and pies fresh off the fire

To warm the cockles of your heart”

But there’s nothing in the basket but fresh air

Is there a crime or misdemeanor on the streets?

“Fresh baked on the morrow” screamed

But tomorrow never comes it seems