01 — THE QUESTION IN MY POCKET Voice: Socrates [Style: Psychedelic porch blues; sly baritone, fingerpicked guitar, upright bass, crooked piano, harmonica replies. 88 BPM, G major.] [Verse 1] Bought these shades at the corner store, Seven dollars, maybe less. Saw a man sell certainty In a thousand-dollar vest. He said, “Friend, I’ve got the answer.” I said, “What was asked?” He looked down at his polished shoes; The light was changing fast. [Chorus] I’ve got a question in my pocket, A little room to be wrong. If the truth can’t take a question, What’s been holding it so strong? Pull a chair up to the daylight, Let the easy answers go. There’s a whole wide world beginning Where we say, “I do not know.” [Verse 2] Now a million little mirrors Tell us who we ought to be. Every thumb can move a mountain; Who can move a certainty? Ask whose supper paid the profit, Ask whose river bought the shine. Then turn that question inward: What excuses have been mine? [Bridge] I can lose an argument And find a better way. Let me leave a little wiser Than the man who came today. [Final chorus — repeat; porch harmonies] [Outro — spoken] Well, friend— What would change your mind?
