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He likes to have the morning paper's
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Crossword solved
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Words go up words come down
|
Forwards backwards twisted round
|
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He grabs a pile of letters from a small suitcase
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Disappears into an office
|
It's another working day
|
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And his thoughts are full of strangers
|
Corridors of naked lights
|
And his mind once full of reason
|
Now there's more than meets the eye
|
Oh, a stranger's face he carries with him
|
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He likes a bit of reading on the subway home
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A distant radio whistling tunes that nobody knows
|
At home a house awaits him, He unlocks the door
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Thinking once there was a sea here
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But there never was a door
|
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And his thoughts are full of strangers
|
And his eyes to numb to see
|
And nothing that he knows of
|
And nowhere where he's been
|
Was ever quite like this
|
|
And his thoughts...
|
And at heart
|
He's full of strangers
|
Dodging on his train of thought
|
Train of thought
|
|
*»ç¶ûÇØ.TETO+
|
|
|
-----------------
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Train Of Thought
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| A Ha |
