Do you remember the song "Who Can It Be Now?" by Men at Work?  You know, the folks who made songs about Vegemite Sandwhichs all the rage with "Down Under" had another, totally different song.

And it's rather bizarre.

In "Who Can It Be Now?", our working men sing:

Who can it be knocking at my door?
Go 'way, don't come 'round here no more.
Can't you see that it's late at night?
I'm very tired, and I'm not feeling right.
All I wish is to be alone;
Stay away, don't you invade my home.
Best off if you hang outside,
Don't come in - I'll only run and hide.

Okay. Clearly some anti-social behavior, but that's fine.  We're wondering who's at the door, we're tired, we're not feeling well, we're a bit of a loner -- we want you to stay away. 

But then, at last, comes the chorus:

Who can it be now?
Who can it be now?
Who can it be now?
Who can it be now?

Well, if that's not passion, I don't know what is.  Probably some of the best lyrics of an era, perhaps only eventually eclipsed by Edie Brickel (she of New Bohemian fame), with her empassioned:

What I am is what I am.
Are you what you are - or what?

But I digress.  On my way to work this morning, Men at Work came on the MP3-CD player, wondering aloud just who it could be knocking at their door.

I began singing along.  Freestyling, if you will.  "Riffing," you might say.  Improvising, scatting, whatever you wanna call it:

Why don't I just open up the door?
I'd know who's there, but my song would be o'er
A peep hole would likely do the trick
But still, why am I being such a prick

What's wrong with me now?
What's wrong with me now?