| Hey!
|
| Hey!
|
| He likes to have the morning paper’s crossword solved
|
| Words go up, words come down
|
| Forwards, backwards, twisted round
|
| He doesn’t act that strangely now there’s people around
|
| He’s looking at their faces
|
| They won’t stick in his mind
|
| Hoo-hoo-hoooo-hoo
|
| 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
|
| Now a stranger’s face he carries with him
|
| Ooooh
|
| He likes a bit of reading on the subway home
|
| Yeah
|
| A distant radio’s whistling tunes that nobody knows
|
| He says «Hey… Won’t you hurry? |
| Hurry!»
|
| A sudden interruption on his train of thought
|
| This Monday is the Tuesday from the week before
|
| He-he-he
|
| Hoo-hoo-hoooo
|
| Yeah
|
| 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 too numb to see
|
| And nothing that he knows of
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| And nowhere where he’s been
|
| Was never quite like this
|
| Yeah!
|
| And at heart, he’s full of strangers
|
| Dodging on his train of thought
|
| Train of thought
|
| Train of thought
|
| Train of thought
|
| Train of thought
|
| Train of thought |