I'm sitting on the curb

By the empty parking lot

Of the store where they let me play the organ

I'm waiting for my ride

But I want to wait inside

Of the store where they let me play the organ



But I'm thinking of a wooden chair

In a room at the top of the stair

And I'm looking down the stairwell

At the vanishing dot

On the map of the spot



let me take you there

The dotted line

Surrounding the mind

Of a self called nowhere



It's a thing named "it"

in a bottomless pit

You can't see it there

The sunken head

That lies in the bed

Of a self called nowhere



Standing in my yard

Where they tore down the garage

To make room for the torn down garage

I'm looking for my car

But I must've sold my car

When I needed to buy an electric organ

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