Record collector

I’m tired of saying
That I won’t get lost ever again
Who knows, maybe I will
And everywhere I go
There I’ll be
With a rust old rake in a pile of leaves
Oh my, truly daunting

But my blue eyes
Cannot see
That their true hue is probably green

I should keep records of these things

And I’ll know what yesterdays bring

I’m not really sure
But I’m starting to think that I’ve been here before
Who knows
Maybe I have
And everywhere I went
There I was with a choir of bees
They were all a buzz

Oh my, how amusing

But my blue eyes
Cannot see
That their true hue is probably green

I should keep records of these things

And I’ll know what yesterdays bring