Miss Milton’s lovely fudge pie,
she liked it but I don’t know why.
Marylin came here all the time,
across the line.
We watch you eat and dance,
life’s nothing more but romance,
polite and finely dressed,
with your life we’re all obsessed.
An image of Marylin and JFK,
we seem to judge the lifestyle
but we love the cliche.
From the oval to the screens,
across the USA and it seems,
in cold amazement,
we watch and refuse,
to stop the tragedy of life,
of misses Milton’s blues.
Reality seems to bend,
while you sail in to the sunset
far away to happy end.
Hanging out with old Tiffany lamps,
lonely gentleman and cheap tramps,
miss Milton knew how to get along.