It always happens in coffee shops 

And I'm always hungover when someone wants to talk 

And don't get me wrong, I like talking when it's a 
healthy back-and-forth exchange 

But some people always wanna lecture me and try to make 
me change 

He says 'You are a mystery, aren't you' 

And considering he hasn't shut up long enough for me to 
string two words together 

Yes that's me, Miss Mystery 

And he's quiet for a time 

And I think that might be a good sign 

Til there's a glint in his eye and I realise he's just 
making more sentences in his mind 

And here it comes, and there's nothing I can do 

I take a sip, I take a breath 

He licks his lips and he's opening his mouth, and it's:



Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah 

Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah 

Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah 

blah blah dog diggity blah



Like a steamtrain 

Like an onslaught 

Like a machine gun loaded with your opinions but it's 
incoherent ammunition and your words aren't very 
wounding weapons when they're inflicted on me 

And I know you mean well 

With your deep wells of advice 

And your buckets of swelled self-righteousness 

Hell, you're just trying to be nice 

And you're nice, but you state your views like they are 
facts of life 

And I hate that, and I tell you 

And I brace myself for the reply, it's gonna be:



Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah 

Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah 

Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah 

blah blah dog diggity blah



He says, 'You never were much of a talker' 

Well this isn't talking 

This is being cornered 

I'm being cornered by you 

And I can't get away 

From this table for two 

in the corner of this bright corner café 

And didn't we have this same conversation last week? 

It's not that I don't like you - I just wish you 
wouldn't speak:



Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah 

Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah 

Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah 

blah blah dog diggity blah



I see he's made a list 

Of pressing topics of discussion 

Competing with the clanking coffee cup percussion 

And I guess we'll start with number one 

On the first A4 page 

Past the setting of the sun 

And the pouring of the lattes 

And here it comes, it's coming and there's nothing 
anyone can do 

I take a sip 

I grip the chair 

He opens his big, wet slippery mouth: 



Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah 

Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah 

Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah 

blah blah dog diggity blah