He likes to have the morning paper's
Crossword solved
Words go up words come down

Forwards backwards twisted round
He grabs a pile of letters from a small
suitcase

Disappears into an office
It's another working day


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


He likes a bit of reading on the subway
home
A distant radio whistling tunes that

nobody knows
At home a house awaits him, He
unlocks the door

Thinking once there was a sea here
But there never was a door


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