|
I lifted up the storm drain |
|
And pushed my hands into the dirt |
|
There's a secret here hidden somewhere |
|
And the words repeated psalm like |
|
'Cause that's my birthright |
|
I wondered if I could get low enough |
|
To the ground with my headphones on |
|
And the fire ants biting at my hands |
|
Don't worry, there's a master plan |
|
I was bitten |
|
By a sour frame of mind that day |
|
And I didn't mean to treat you in a hurtful way |
|
But my dreams had all expired |
|
And my thoughts were static |
|
I was looking |
|
At my future in a box in the attic |
|
Will you please, come see me? |
|
We could form a new band |
|
Does that sound like a recurring bad luck hand? |
|
I'm a microphone, I'm a tambourine |
|
I'm a record sleeve, I'm a melatron |
|
I'm your man |
|
I shall wear the impossible dream |
|
In a tattoo on my arm for my friends to see |
|
To remind me when my focus |
|
Turns from love to depression |
|
And I'll pray to George Harrison's reincarnation |
|
It was after the Gold Rush spinning in my heart |
|
And I thought we could invent a supernatural art |
|
But the band went down in a fiery zeppelin |
|
And I smashed my guitar at the gates of heaven |
|
And the well in the Murakami book went dry |
|
Mister, wind up bird, can you tell me why? |
|
So I looked for the answer in Norwegian Wood |
|
And the million little pieces of my childhood |
|
The billion little pieces of my childhood |
|
I'm a perfect rhyme, I'm a drum machine |
|
I'm a radio, I'm a symphony |
|
I'm your man |
