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