His organ sounds like clouds brushing against the moon on an ice crusted midnight,
But everything it hurts every thing it hurts everything it hurts everything it hurts,
His synthesizer sails galactic landscapes, from New York to ancient Rome in an hour
But everything it hurts every thing it hurts everything it hurts everything it hurts,
His voice softens the squall of deaths imminence of when he sings oh it rains tropical colors
But everything it hurts every thing it hurts everything it hurts everything it hurts

But when I hear that music all the world is holy and it’s good hey hey he--y, and no one sings the sanitary blues

His harps hover like moths in the atmosphere I feel like rushing through tall grasslands.
But everything it hurts every thing it hurts everything it hurts everything it hurts
His boom box blares classics never written, the songs singers never had time to make up,
But everything it hurts every thing it hurts everything it hurts everything it hurts

But when I hear that music all the animals in my heart roar hey hey he-y, and no one sings the sanitary blues.

Nobody noticed that the waitress was on fire. She screamed and threw herself on the ground. The customers just kept to themselves, reading the morning paper with coffee, everyone one one one wa-one one one everyone. The portraits on the walls started to sweat and moan everyone one one one wa-one one one everyone.
I was trying to enjoy a cappuccino over the agonizing howl so I hid inside a newspaper headline. It said “Mission Accomplished” the man in the flight suit twitched and went (everyone one one one wa-one one one everyone) home with a brunette in the crowd.

His Space Echo seethes undiscovered colors lets repaint this architecture.
But everything it hurts every thing it hurts everything it hurts everything it hurts
His violins sound like crickets shrieking at the sun on a summer afternoon.
But everything it hurts every thing it hurts


Lyrics submitted by MitchDouglas

My Organ Sounds Like... song meanings
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6 Comments

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  • 0
    General CommentNeonMitch. go me.
    i love this song.
    MitchDouglason June 08, 2008   Link
  • 0
    General CommentJohnny Whitney is quite possibly the best lyricist ever born.
    Everything he writes is pure genius.
    CujoEtneron June 24, 2008   Link
  • 0
    General CommentAfter thinking about it for a while, I think this song is Johnny talking about himself, thus the title "MY Organ Sounds Like..." rather than "HIS Organ Sounds Like..."
    I think it's Johnny looking at all the pain and misery in the world, and how he's able to see it all from up on the stage. He's able to make this beautiful music, but 'everything it hurts.'
    It hurts to see people suffer.
    It hurts to see people hate each other.
    It hurts to see the world in its current state.

    Just my two cents.
    CujoEtneron August 31, 2008   Link
  • 0
    General CommentI think basically he's saying that everything is fucked up.
    No one gives a fuck about it (waitress part). And although he realizes this crap, music makes it worth it for him, or at least music help him cope.
    Soderbergon September 22, 2008   Link
  • 0
    General CommentBut when I hear that music all the world is holy and it’s good hey hey he--y, and no one sings the sanitary blues

    sends shivers down my spine
    ttrueblueon November 19, 2008   Link
  • 0
    General CommentI'm not sure how I submit lyrics, so here they are. :-]

    his organs sounds like clouds brushing against the moon on an ice-crusted midnight
    but everything it hurts
    and everything it hurts
    and everything it hurts
    and everything it hurts

    his synthesizer sails galactic landscapes from new york to ancient rome in an hour
    and everything it hurts
    and everything it hurts
    and everything it hurts
    and everything it hurts

    his voice softens the squall of death's imminence, when he sings oh it rains tropical colors
    but everything it hurts
    and everything it hurts
    and everything it hurts
    and everything it hurts

    but when i hear the music, all the world is holy and it's good
    oh hey hey hey

    [and nobody ever, nobody ever, nobody ever]
    his harps hover like moths in the atmosphere, i feel like rushing through tall grasslands
    but everything it hurts
    and everything it hurts
    and everything it hurts
    and everything it hurts

    his boom box blares the songs never written, the songs singers never ever made up
    but everything it hurts
    and everything it hurts
    and everything it hurts
    and everything it hurts

    but when i hear the music all the animals in my heart roar
    oh hey hey hey

    [nobody ever, nobody ever, nobody ever sing sanitary blues, the sanitary blues]

    well nobody noticed that the waitress was on fire
    she screamed and through herself down on the ground and
    everybody, they just kept to themselves, reading morning paper with coffee
    [everyone-one-one-one-one-one everyone]
    the portraits on the walls started to sweat and moan
    [everyone-one-one-one-one-one everyone]
    well i was trying to enjoy a cappuccino over the agonizing howl
    so i hid inside a newspaper headline
    it said mission accomplished
    the man in the flight suit twitched
    and he went home with the brunette in the crowd

    his space echo seethes undiscovered colors, lets repaint all of this architecture
    and everything it hurts
    and everything it hurts
    and everything it hurts
    and everything it hurts

    his violins sound like crickets shrieking at the sun on a hot yosemite summer
    but everything it hurts
    and everything it hurts
    and everything it hurts
    and everything it hurts

    but when i hear the music, all the wilderness in my heart grows
    oh hey hey hey

    and nobody every, nobody ever, sings sanitary blues, sanitary blues, sanitary blues
    but everything it hurts
    and everything it hurts
    and everything it hurts
    and everything it hurts [x4]

    his organs sounds like clouds brushing against the moon on an ice-crusted midnight
    bloodblueson July 04, 2009   Link

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