Record Collector

I’m tired of saying
That I won’t get lost ever again
Who knows, maybe I will
And everywhere I go
There I’ll be with a rust old rake in a pile of leaves
Oh my, truly daunting

But my blue eyes canot see
That their real hue is probably green
I should keep records of these things
And I’ll know what yesterdays bring

I’m not really sure
But I’m starting to think that I’ve been here before
Who knows
Maybe I have
And everywhere I went
There I was with a choir of bees
They were all a buzz
Oh my, how amusing

But my blue eyes canot see
That their real hue is probably green
I should keep records of these things
And I’ll know what yesterdays bring

One time, there was this one time
When I swore God, she spoke to me
And she told me, oh yes she told me
Of all the wonder that she could bring
And I said,
Won’t you, won’t you fill me up with it, won‘t you fill me up with it,
Won’t you fill me

But my blue eyes canot see
That their real hue is probably green
I will keep records of these things
And I’ll know what yesterdays bring
I am always here with me
And I’ll know what yesterdays bring