He Used To Cut The Grass
Frank Zappa Lyrics

I'm out at last
Joe is no longer constrained by any type of imprisonment, and is free to go outside.

Boy, the world sure looks different
Joe sees things newly and changed after having been confined before.

Wow . . . there's hardly anything fun to do
Joe is disappointed that he can't find any enjoyment outside.

Since they made music illegal
Joe thinks the lack of music in the world is the cause for its current state of boredom.

But I'm hooked
Joe has become addicted to music and needs it to sustain himself.

I got the habit
Joe is recognizing his addiction and that he should be worried about it.

I've got to have it
Joe feels like he can't live without music.

I need to play
Joe has an urge to produce music.

But there's no musicians anymore
Joe can't find anyone else to create music with.

They're all gone
Referring to the absence of fellow music creators.

Wait! I've got it!
Joe inspires himself and has an idea.

I'll be sullen and withdrawn
Joe will become introspective and isolated.

I'll dwindle off into the twilight realm
Joe will leave the world to be in his head.

Of my own secret thoughts
Joe will keep his thoughts to himself and not share them with others.

I'll walk through the parking lot
Joe doesn't care where he's physically or what he's doing.

In a semi-catatonic state
Joe is partially in a state of unconsciousness.

And dream of guitar notes
Joe thinks of a melody from a guitar.

To go with the loading zone announcements.
Joe hears mundane loading zone announcements and tries to incorporate his melody into it.

This is the CENTRAL SCRUTINIZER
The singer is introducing themselves as the Central Scrutinizer.

The White Zone is for loading and unloading only.
The artist is saying that the White Zone is only for loading and unloading.

If you gotta load or unload, go to the White Zone.
The artist is suggesting that if one is in need of loading or unloading, they should go to the white zone.

You'll love it.
The artist wants you to enjoy the White Zone.

It's a way of life.
The singer thinks that the White Zone is integral to existence.

I have children sleeping here!
Mrs. Borg is angry because she has to keep quiet for the sake of the sleeping children.

Don't you boys know any nice songs?
Mrs. Borg thinks the music playing is inappropriate and would like something nicer sounding.

I'm calling the police!
Mrs. Borg is clearly angry and threatening to call the authorities over the loud music.

I did it!
Mrs. Borg is taking responsibility and pride in having called the cops.

They'll be here . . . shortly!
Mrs. Borg believes the police will arrive very soon.

I'm not joking around anymore!
Mrs. Borg is serious in her threat toward the loud music creators and their disturbance of the peace.

You'll see now!
Mrs. Borg says this as if to say 'I told you so!' when the police arrive shortly.

There they are . . . they're coming!
Mrs. Borg is excited that the police have finally arrived.

Just listen to that mess, would you!
Mrs. Borg is telling someone else to listen to how bad the music is.

Every day this goes on around here!
Mrs. Borg is tired of the loud music disturbing her community.

He used to cut my grass . . .
Mrs. Borg is reminiscing about how helpful Joe used to be in cutting her grass.

He was a very nice boy . . .
Mrs. Borg remembers Joe being a respectful and polite boy.

Yes . . . he used to be a nice boy . . .
The Central Scrutinizer is building off of Mrs. Borg's previous statements.

But now his mind is totally destroyed by music.
The Central Scrutinizer believes that Joe's love for music has completely consumed him, almost to the point of insanity.

He's so crazy now he even believes that people are writing articles and reviews about his imaginary guitar notes, and so, continuing to dwindle in the twilight realm of his own secret thoughts, he not only dreams imaginary guitar notes, but, to make matters worse, dreams imaginary vocal parts to a song about the imaginary journalistic profession . . .
The Central Scrutinizer thinks Joe's love for music has driven him mad, to the point where he believes in his own delusions, including that others are writing about his nonexistent music and that he can hear other imaginary parts of music.