Lyrics
My name is Benjamin, Benny, Ben. I love words.
I command a bevy of them.
Dictionaries or Thesaurus.
My vernacular will never grow weary.
My words linger like the exquisite aroma of freshly steamed Brussel sprouts.
If you allow me. I’ll take you on a journey through the derivation of each phrasing channeling my inner Zachary. The deep verbal wizardry. We’ll soar through time and space to view Hezakiah Bartholomew braid the first copper wire. Can you feel my ecstasy while blending the vowel with the syllable into the incredible, synesthesia visual aura of my intellect. From the mind of Horatio Alger to the collected works of Joyce, Tolstoy, Wallace, Pynchon or Paine you’ll not suffer the memorial stain of refrain. Be you bewildered, dizzy, or inconsolable. I’ll land you softly from whence you came.
My name is Benjamin, Benny, Ben. I love words.
I command a bevy of them.