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 cannot see

That their real hue's probably green

I should keep records of these things

And I'll know what yesterdays bring

I, 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 cannot see

That their real hue is probably green

I should keep records of these things

And I'll know what yesterdays bring

But 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

Why don't you fill me up with it

Won't you fill me

Won't you, won't you fill me up with it

Why don't you fill me up with it

Why don't you fill m

Won't you, won't you fill me up with it

Why don't you fill me up with it

Why don't you fill me!

But my blue eyes cannot 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 there with me

And I know what yesterdays bring