There's a song buzzing inside my brain
And I can't get it out.
I haven't got an instrument to strike out all the chords I'd need
And there's no way to hit the high notes.
But there's still a song that needs to be written
And it's roaming over the pastures of my thought
Like an antelope over the plains of Africa.
There's so much room and there seem to be
So many places to go
That by the time I've got the means
There'll be no song left to write.
I'll wait around with my gun
And maim the first thing on four legs
That passes by me.
I'll move on, but it won't come back.
I wonder where it goes?
I wonder where it goes when I'm asleep?