LYRIC FOR SALE

By E Lloyd Kelly

What a thing. What’s going on—my king? Nothing more than some; things
Well, I can hear some people asking, every time they’re passing, tell me what’s going on my king. The very same old, worn, and outdated question; tell me what's gone wrong with him. All they got was this same one-word answer, when I have to tell them; things

Everybody wants to know what's going on—Prince. “What’s the matter with him?” Tell me what is wrong with everyone this evening? The answer has always been the same. Same as it was the last time, that even I must sometimes go out and do some; things. What a thing?

Woke up early morning, ran inside the kitchen, to light a little fire and thing. Now watch the fire blaze, under the kettle base. To get me through the high morning. Bringing it to the boil, and over something nice. Like Blue Mountain coffee beans.

What a thing! What’s going on—my king? Nothing more than some; things

Well, I ran down to the river to freshen up and wash skin, and take my morning swim. Then sit upon a limb with my little box string to over-run two lyrics and sing. A little song I wrote over a haunting note, to lively up the place on Sting. What a thing!

Now here’s the point I make to those standing at my gate, enquiring as to what’s at stake. I told them idle hands are great to play with demon’s plate and break out chasing litigate. The takeaway that’s worth, waiting for, of course, is that we must all go do some; things. What a thing!

What a thing. What’s going on—my king? Nothing more than; things. That’s what really going on with him. Rep.