Lyrics

Christopher Lloyd Hair Day

I’m having a Christopher Lloyd hair day.
I’ve got a Johnny Winter tan.
I have a Groucho Marxist mustache
and a Machiavellian plan.
And I’m drinking Johnny Walker
from an Erlenmeyer flask.
I’m on a Quixotic quest
to complete a Sisyphean task.

It took a Herculean effort
to make my Procrustean bed,
between Buster Keaton comedy
and Alfred Hitchcock dread.
Is this a Walter Mitty fantasy
or a nightmare that’s Kafkaesque?
Is this Shakespearean tragedy
or a Gypsy Rose Lee burlesque?

I was born by Caesarean section
and conceived in a Cadillac.
I’ve been living the life of Riley,
but Riley wants it back.
My oath is Hippocratic
and my code’s Napoleonic.
I’ve got the Robert Johnson blues
‘cause all my love’s Platonic.

You have a Mona Lisa smile.
I have an Elvis Presley sneer.
You’re not my Lancelot.
I’m not your Guinevere.
We are the Jungian archetype
of a bad relationship.
Do you have an Oedipal complex
or was it just a Freudian slip?

I’m having a Christopher Lloyd hair day.
I’ve got a Johnny Winter tan.
I have a Groucho Marxist mustache
and a Machiavellian plan.