| I’ve cut off the curls, I shaved half my face
|
| Became half the man, you asked to replace
|
| I’m willing to save you, you said you’re worth saving
|
| But half of my appetite’s lost half it’s craving
|
| Stand in the mirror, well that’s me beside you
|
| The one with the smile, the one who abides you
|
| And I don’t mind the madman, the killer, the lover
|
| Well he’s slowly fading one into the other
|
| And where is that white picket fence
|
| That I painted myself in the late days of April?
|
| Where are the daffodil mountains?
|
| I know that they’re somewhere around here by the garden
|
| You say that you’re happy, well you should know better
|
| I see that you’ve sewn up that rip in your sweater
|
| That some lover tore off you, that left you both shaking
|
| That bled deep inside you the wound you’d forsaken
|
| And where is that white picket fence
|
| That I painted myself in the late days of April?
|
| Where are the daffodil mountains?
|
| I know that they’re somewhere around here by the garden
|
| Don’t fear I will save you, don’t shout you’ll awaken
|
| The corpse in the desert staked out beside you
|
| I cut off his wing and shaved half his face
|
| But I thought that I saw his eyes move |