The only thing that was familiar - what stuck in my head - was the line rhyming comprehension with dimensions. Just yesterday, I had argued with Tim, my music writing partner, that it was perfectly fine to use it that way. He wanted it changed to: 

More than one dimension

is beyond your comprehension

I told him it didn't make any difference. When you sing the sibilant 's', it's hardly heard and so I wanted it kept the way I originally wrote it.

But where the rest of the lyrics came from, I didn't know. It wasn't the song Tim and I worked on yesterday. It was totally different meter and rhyme scheme.

I gave up and filed the cloth/paper thing in the kitchen drawer as I grabbed a cup of coffee.  Maybe Tim was playing a joke on me, or something. I'd make sure and mention it to him at tonight's session.

I ran through the phone messages - the usual stuff from overdue library books and friends to doctor's appointment confirmations to... wait. That last voice was - mine? A chill ran down my spine. I never really call here - even on my cell. Okay, maybe the rare call to leave myself a reminder. But I hadn't done that in a while. I played the message.

"Look, I know this is strange, but you have to believe me. I left the note as proof. You have to stop writing that song. I mean it! If you do you - we - will regret it."

The - my - voice stopped and there was a squealing of tires and what sounded like an explosion. Then a banging sound like the receiver had been dropped in a pay phone: then hurried footsteps banging the cement.

I know I had to have turned bone white. If this was a practical joke, it wasn't funny anymore.