Van Dyke Parks is on the phone
I try to be cool, but my thoughts won't leave me alone,
I think that what kind of world is this we're in,
Where you can pick up the phone (and start to grin), because it's

Van Dyke Parks, the man himself
His witty remarks are always top shelf,
He says he likes my work, and I'm surprised
I never thought I'd be recognized by
Van Dyke Parks

I don't even know now what we talked about,
The Red Clay Ramblers, Phil Ochs, or the LA drought
Any one of these are possibilities

I heard his voice, for the very first time,
I was at Syd Straw's place near Hollywood and Vine,
But it's not what you think, she was out of town,
I was crashing there, unprepared for the sound of

Van Dyke Parks, the one and only
I was half asleep, the other half was lonely,
And we talked like old friends across the wire
It was eight a.m., I was still in my in my sleep attire,
Talkin' to
Van Dyke Parks

I asked him about chords, and "The All Golden,"
"The Bare Necessities," and then, emboldened,
He told me things that I can't repeat
But if I did, you'd fall right out of your seat
In front of Van Dyke Parks

At the age of ten he sang for Einstein
Who pulled out his violin and kept time
As if he knew it well, but wouldn't tell?

So if you think the world's a bore,
You've seen it all, and there ain't no more,
Well just wait for the day when you pick up the phone
And you think it's a guy tryin' to make you a loan,
But it's really Van Dyke Parks