Shape of Things The Kingston Trio
"Shape of Things" by The Kingston Trio, released in 1963, is a folk song that explores themes of change and the fleeting nature of life. The lyrics reflect on how experiences shape individuals over time. Musically, it features harmonious vocals and acoustic instrumentation typical of folk. Its reflective message resonates with listeners, highlighting personal growth. #Folk
Completely round is the perfect pearl the oyster manufactures
Completely round is the steering wheel that leads to compound fractures
Completely round is the golden fruit that hangs from the orange tree
Yes, the circle shape is quite renowned
But, sad to say, it can be found
In the lowdown, dirty run-around
That my true love gave to me
That my true love gave to me
Completely square is the little box he said my ring would be in
Completely square is the envelope he said good-bye to me in
Completely square is the handkerchief I flourish constantly
As I dry my eyes of the tears I've shed
And blow my nose which turns bright red
For a perfect square is my true love's head
He will not marry me, no
He will not marry me
Rectangular is the hotel door my true love tried to sneak through
Rectangular is the transom hole by which I had to peek through
Rectangular is the hotel room I entered angrily, and
Rectangular is the wooden box
Where lies my love 'neath the golden phlox
They say he died of the chicken pox
In part I must agree
One chick too many had he
Completely round is the steering wheel that leads to compound fractures
Completely round is the golden fruit that hangs from the orange tree
Yes, the circle shape is quite renowned
But, sad to say, it can be found
In the lowdown, dirty run-around
That my true love gave to me
That my true love gave to me
Completely square is the little box he said my ring would be in
Completely square is the envelope he said good-bye to me in
Completely square is the handkerchief I flourish constantly
As I dry my eyes of the tears I've shed
And blow my nose which turns bright red
For a perfect square is my true love's head
He will not marry me, no
He will not marry me
Rectangular is the hotel door my true love tried to sneak through
Rectangular is the transom hole by which I had to peek through
Rectangular is the hotel room I entered angrily, and
Rectangular is the wooden box
Where lies my love 'neath the golden phlox
They say he died of the chicken pox
In part I must agree
One chick too many had he
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