I'd like to help you doctor Yes I really, really would But the din in my head It's too much and it's no good I'm standing in a windy tunnel Shouting
In my book of dreams In my book of dreams In my book of dreams I took your urgent whisper Stole the arc of a white wing Rode like foam on the river of
In Liverpool on Sunday No traffic on the avenue The light is pale and thin like you No sound, down in this part of town Except for the boy in the belfry
If you want me you can find me Left of center off of the strip In the outskirts and in the fringes In the corner out of the grip If you want me you can
Ante up, don't be shy Who is that man who is catching my eye? What's underneath all of the deadpan face? Sitting so pretty with a criminal grace? Lamebrain
Do you remember when you walked with me Down the street into the square? How the women selling rosemary Pressed the branches to your chest Promised luck
Oh Mom, the dreams are not so bad It's just that there's so much to do And I'm tired of sleeping Oh Mom, the old man is telling me something His eyes