(to Paul Simon's "You Can Call Me Al")
A man stares down the beat
He sings and puts a song on the griddle now
Puts puns and song on the griddle
And shines a new light on old guard
He sees a golden opportunity
He takes a shot at invention
He wants to make it a cartoon
Like a cartoon pop yarn
They snicker
We snicker
Howls at the moonlight
Slice his way through pure pop lore
Get your grin ready
Grin ready
Yes, he’s nuts, a weird marquis
I’m glad he still writes pop songs amusing, never bores
If you hear some hallowed song
It could be some big chart wow
He has lance at ready
Get ready when he’s spawning
For a song by Al
A note wafts down the street
It drifts by and we’re gripped with attention
Grabs the world’s little span of attention
And through our brains it plays on
With that hook filled melody
What if a new ear
Will write a tune novel
And takes that tune novel and
Gold
Gold
He spins a song exacting
With some tarnished Amish pranking gangsta world
Or a song
A song
‘Bout some grungy gents as malcontents
Or fat guy with dance gyrations
You could be a singing bard
You could sing of long lost gal
You just be at ready
Be ready for the bombing
With a song by Al
Song by Al.
A thought comes now to me
It’s a cold and a weird world
Maybe spin this old world
Maybe it needs jest kind of sound
Who really speaks the language?
We have no normalcy
We need a silly man
Who has no fondness for the proud
The proud
Meddle with the music place
Poking things like all the cool kids
Yeah, he’s a clown
A clown
He sees humor in our nomenclature
Using his insanity
We say Amen! And Hallelujah!
You could like the avant-garde
You could like the old high brow
You could like the edgy
But tell me you feel fondly
For the songs by Al
