Tim Vesely Someone keeps repeating what I say One hundred years before it's said. It doesn't make me feel good. That same someone scored a goal When I put the puck in the net, And I'm still shut out while he's leading the league. Who? Is this someone? I find out, I'll make him pay. Meanwhile, I will patent all my moves. I'll write them down here in my book. I'll have a record there. Hey there! Mr. Justice, I have brought unto you a book In which I document myself in many ways. "Hey there! Mr. No One, I have recognized this writing as my own, And you have forged it as your own." Who? When I get out of forger's prison, I will be on record as having done Something on my own. I'm looking slightly less than visible today. I think and therefore I am enslaved. My little book of verse is words and thoughts of ages Of accidents like me. Someone keeps repeating what I sing One million years before it's sung. Well, it doesn't make me feel good. Who? Who? Who?