(Verse 1) I dropped my spoon this morning — it clattered on the floor, And instantly my brain went, “Hey, that’s a metaphor.” A rhythm in the chaos, a beat inside the splat… And then I heard myself say, “I could make a song about that.” (Chorus) Oh no, here I go again, Turning every tiny thing into a lyric with a grin. If it moves, if it falls, if it whispers, if it chats — My brain lights up and shouts, “I could make a song about that!” And then I think, “Hold on, wait — I could make a song about making a song about that.” (Verse 2) Someone said “nice weather,” and I felt my heart ignite, Because suddenly I’m humming about sunshine being bright. A cloud floats by? That’s a ballad. A pigeon lands? That’s scat. And yes, I hear myself again: “I could make a song about that.” (Chorus) Oh no, here I go again, Turning every tiny thing into a lyric with a grin. If it moves, if it falls, if it whispers, if it chats — My brain lights up and shouts, “I could make a song about that!” And then I think, “Hold on, wait — I could make a song about making a song about that.” (Bridge) A song about a song about a song — How deep does this rabbit hole go? If I write a tune about writing a tune, Will the universe implode? …Probably no. But if it does, at least I’ll hum A final chorus as we go. (Final Chorus) Oh yes, here I go again, Stacking silly meta‑songs until I lose count of ten. If it blinks, if it squeaks, if it bumps into a cat — My brain jumps up and yells, “I could make a song about that!” And now I’ve done it — look at that — I made a song about making a song about that.
