| I found you today
|
| While I was reading Patti Smith
|
| And she mentioned your name
|
| So I drove to the store
|
| And I bought a copy of
|
| The Wind-Up Bird and let it rain
|
| Town like Japan, sipping sencha
|
| On the train to Kyoto on Saturday
|
| Wondering through the Fushimi gates
|
| Murakami, you paint real life
|
| On a snow white empty page
|
| Like origami, you fold your light
|
| In a brand new ancient away
|
| And I know your pen is mightier
|
| Than a Samurai’s sword
|
| It’s diamond sharpened
|
| Murakami, your words inspire
|
| From an island far away
|
| You sound like a symphony, yeah
|
| You sound like a symphony, yeah
|
| I chased that sheep
|
| All the way out to Hokkaido
|
| I couldn’t find a thing
|
| Anywhere and I felt so alone
|
| That I traveled back to Tokyo
|
| To walk those neon streets
|
| Weaving like lines
|
| That you drew in silence
|
| While your Boer
|
| And Bernstein vinyl played
|
| Listening to every mark they made
|
| Murakami, you paint real life
|
| On a snow white empty page
|
| Like origami, you fold your light
|
| In a brand new ancient way
|
| And I know your pen is mightier
|
| Than a Samurai’s sword
|
| It’s diamond sharpened
|
| Murakami, your words inspire
|
| From an island far away
|
| You sound like a symphony, yeah
|
| You sound like a symphony, yeah
|
| And I wonder what would men do without women
|
| Would we live in caves and go for days
|
| Without a shave just watching television
|
| All alone, staring at the phone just wishing
|
| Someone else was home
|
| Murakami, you paint real life
|
| On a snow white empty page
|
| Like origami, you fold your light
|
| In a brand new ancient way
|
| And I know your pen is mightier
|
| Than a Samurai’s sword
|
| It’s diamond sharpened
|
| Murakami, your words inspire
|
| From an island far away
|
| You sound like a symphony, yeah
|
| You sound like a symphony, yeah
|
| You sound like a symphony, yeah
|
| You sound like a symphony, yeah |