I will take my breakfast early,
Or maybe take it late,
I just can't quite decide...
The morning fog is creeping in,
Or is it crawling out?
The tray is on my bed...
The fog had long been burned off
The sun was creeping towards the blue
You'd eaten your breakfast, now I was eating too
Sometimes I take it early, and sometimes
take it late
But I know I like it warm
And I know you like it blue
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