I creep down lane Memory,
but all’s lane Memory things
denote a circumscribed domain.
So I’m left with few favorite songs
among a lyrics-largesse throng.
Most I sing are from the sixties—
all that I listened to earnestly.

So it’s the same old songs
but with a different meaning
in each I spawn.
Yeah, it’s the same old songs
but with a different meaning
when keys tapped on.

No sentimental tool am I
to take on a few songs
from years gone by.
It’s because, you see, I’m just lazy:
contempt is bred by familiarity.
And so once I start, I take on a small part
of a mammoth lyric treasure
trove. . .a small measure.

It’s the same old songs
but with a different meaning
in each I spawn.
Yeah, it’s the same old songs
but with a different meaning
as I go on.

So lane Memory is the passage I’m on. . .
stuck in 60’s with inspiration songs.
Boundless sloth
means I won’t egress
from the place I express
parodic merriment,
I take no chance with new music,
glance askance at new music

So it’s the same old songs
but with a different leaning
in each I spawn.
Yeah, it’s the same old songs
but those bits go streaming
on, on, and on.