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The Breakfast Factory

There’s a town in California
That smells like cinnamon sugar
I never found out why
Yes there is war, there is loss,
There is terrible drive-thru service
But there is also a town
On the coast of California
That smells like a side of cinnamon toast
 
It was evening;
A heavy purple light
Lay on the buildings
The streets were shadowed;
Maybe it was a factory,
A breakfast factory;
I don’t think I’ll ever know
 
Yes there is heartbreak
There is grief
There are drivers who make
Inexplicable lane changes
But there is also a Pacific coast town
That smells like Saturday morning
After a week of school
 
I started that morning in Vegas;
Running west to escape the ugly sun
The sea was quiet, lights were soft
I don’t remember the name of the town
It was probably one of the West Coast Saints,
But what an excellent evening!
What a peaceful end
To a day of hot tar and long, long white lines
 
Yes there is cruelty
There is pain
But there is also a town in California
That smells like cinnamon sugar

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