John Raymond Pollard: Lyrics & Listen

• MP3 short clip, hi-fi play (broadband)
• MP3 short clip, lo-fi play (modem)

When I woke up in the morning
I was yawning as the sun came up.
Light was sneaking through the slits of my Venetians
color of a buttercup.

Time to rise up, open eyes up,
take a shower, and begin to walk to work
down expansive avenues, between the towers,
past the lawyers and the clerks.

Turned on to a street to see a striking scene
that seemed to spring from an old Hitchcock film:
pigeons perching, vultures lurching,
sky turned flapping feathers, wings, and beaks and bills.

And it's not just what I say.
No, it's not a game that I made up to play.

When I listen to the voice inside my head
I really start to go berserk--
mutter, mutter, stutter, clutter.
Oh, I shudder, hear that bird brain chirp, chirp, chirp.

I believe that you believe that I believe
that things should be a certain way.
Just remember that I love you
and I would not change a single thing you say.

And it's not just what I say.
No, it's not a game that I made up to play.

Words and meanings moving in our minds can bind us,
lead us to an early grave.
Mutter, mutter, stutter, clutter:
no, I wouldn't change a single thing you say