Tekster: Newsboys. Breakfast.

Hold the milk, put back the sugar
they are powerless to console
We've gathered here to sprinkle ashes
from our late friend's cereal bowl.
Breakfast Clubbers, say the motto
that he taught us to repeat: You will
lose it in your gym class if you wait
'til noon to eat.
Back when the chess club said our eggs
were soft, every Monday he'd say grace
and hold our juice aloft oh, none of us
knew his checkout time would come so soon but before his brain stopped waiving, he composed this little tune:

CHORUS

When the toast is burning
and all the milk has turned
and Captain Crunch is waving farewell
When the big one finds you
may this song remind you
That they don't serve breakfast in Hell.

Breakfast clubbers, drop the hankies.
Though to some our friend was odd,
that day he bought those pine pajamas
his check was good with God.
Those here without the Lord, how do you cope? For this morning we don't mourn like those who have no hope.
Oh, rise up, Fruit Loop lovers- sing out sweet & low, with spoons held high we bid our brother, Cheerio!

Chorus [X4]


(Thanks to Paisley for these lyrics)