It's the heart, don't you see?
It's listening to you but it's living in me...

Feed your head...

I remember
We were flying low, and hit something in the air...

It's on America's tortured brow
That Mickey Mouse has grown up a cow
Now the workers have struck for fame
'Cause Lennon's on sale again

Something's missing and I don't know why
I always feel the need to hide my feelings from you
Is it me or you that I'm afraid of
I tell myself, I'll show you what I'm made of
Can't bring myself to let you go

Dream, dream, dream
Dreams in the night
Take me back to you
The day comes
With it's friend
The Morning blues again

There's a thousand reasons
Why I shouldn't spend my time with you
For every reason not to be here I can think of two

greasy fingers smearing shabby clothes...

I used to have a treasure chest
It got so heavy that I had to rest
I let it slip away from me
Didn't need it anyway, so I let it slip away...

You do the thing you love the most.
What separates you from the rest,
And what you love to do the most?
And when they ask me how you dance,
I say that you dance real close.

Honey you are the sea
upon which I flow...

Tell me why
is it hard to make arrangements with yourself
when you're old enough to repay and young enough to sell...

The dissonant bells of the sea
Who are ringing the rhymes of the deep
As they sing of the ages asleep
Not so near or so far

The beggar whom sits in the street
On his miserable throne of defeat
Envisions no wealth there to meet
Thinking nowhere is far

And the laughter of children employed
By the fantasies not yet destroyed
By the dogmas of those they avoid
Knowing not what they are

idiot wind blowin every time you move your teeth

You don't need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows.

I had a bad reaction to your feared public hobby writings
Cover your breath, cover your teeth
I get no satisfaction from your very recent sightings
Cover your breath, polish your speech
Cover your breath, cover your teeth
Cover your breath, polish your speech
Like when I hear a sound of feet slapping on the runway
Cover your breath, polish your speech
Like a small bird pretty while it's crapping on a new day
Cover your breath, polish your teeth
Cover your breath, polish your speech

It's alright...

Just lying smiling in the dark
Shooting stars around your heart

Hey, Eugene, This is Henry McClean
And I've finished my beautiful flying machine
And I'm ringing to say
That I'm leaving and maybe
You'd like to fly with me
And hide with me, baby
Isn't it strange How little we change?
Isn't it sad we're insane?
Playing the games that we know end in tears
The games we've been playing for thousands and thousands and thousands...