Stephen Mejias

I woke up this morning with a couple of sweet lines playing themselves over and over in my mind. The doctors and scientists call this phenomenon an earworm, which is an entirely unpleasant term. Isn't it? I mean, I would never want an earworm, but I don't at all mind the sound of pretty words running through my head.

Come on, everybody, sing it with me now:

Don't know why I have to work
Don't know why I can't play

We can sing just those two lines over and over again, and be perfectly fulfilled, or we can try to add a couple more lines to it:

Turn me off, turn me out
But don't turn me away

And if we really want to get tangled in the bedsheets, we can head straight to the refrain and then start all over again:

Save me a place
I'll come running if you love me today.

It must be Friday. Oh, yes it is. And the sun is sort of winking at me, too.

I woke up this morning with a couple of sweet lines playing themselves over and over in my mind. The doctors and scientists call this phenomenon an earworm, which is an entirely unpleasant term. Isn't it? I mean, I would never want an earworm, but I don't at all mind the sound of pretty words running through my head.

Come on, everybody, sing it with me now:

Don't know why I have to work
Don't know why I can't play

We can sing just those two lines over and over again, and be perfectly fulfilled, or we can try to add a couple more lines to it:

Turn me off, turn me out
But don't turn me away

And if we really want to get tangled in the bedsheets, we can head straight to the refrain and then start all over again:

Save me a place
I'll come running if you love me today.

It must be Friday. Oh, yes it is. And the sun is sort of winking at me, too.

I woke up this morning with a couple of sweet lines playing themselves over and over in my mind. The doctors and scientists call this phenomenon an earworm, which is an entirely unpleasant term. Isn't it? I mean, I would never want an earworm, but I don't at all mind the sound of pretty words running through my head.

Come on, everybody, sing it with me now:

Don't know why I have to work
Don't know why I can't play

We can sing just those two lines over and over again, and be perfectly fulfilled, or we can try to add a couple more lines to it:

Turn me off, turn me out
But don't turn me away

And if we really want to get tangled in the bedsheets, we can head straight to the refrain and then start all over again:

Save me a place
I'll come running if you love me today.

It must be Friday. Oh, yes it is. And the sun is sort of winking at me, too.

I woke up this morning with a couple of sweet lines playing themselves over and over in my mind. The doctors and scientists call this phenomenon an earworm, which is an entirely unpleasant term. Isn't it? I mean, I would never want an earworm, but I don't at all mind the sound of pretty words running through my head.