When I woke up this morning, I heard voices in my head.
Yes, when I woke this morning, there was talking in my head.
I had this creepy feeling I was listening to the dead.
There was Augustine from Hippo in his righteous leather shoes.
Yes, my good friend August had on skimpy leather shoes.
He was begining to make my head hurt with his metaphysic blues.
Says my swarthy friend from Hippo with his eyes of Berber blue.
Says the little man from Hippo with his flashing baby blues:
“Please look at my ‘Confessions’ for all your metaphysic views.”
Oh, and then I heard from Kierkegaard, but he wasn’t very plain.
Poor old Kierk was speaking gibberish, and he wasn’t very plain.
I said, “Kierk you got to stop now ’cause I really feel your pain.”
Lord, when you wake up in misery with the metaphysic blues.
Yes, some morning’s are made ugly by the metaphysical blues.
It takes some will and effort just to tie the laces of your shoes.
Well, on balance I’m a sane man, and most times I feel alright.
Yes, as a normal course of action, I try to always choose the right.
But when I wake and hear from dead men, it makes a lie out of the night.