So, driven to distraction By witless repartee And wittering conversation Of deep banality Eventually He seeks out interaction Fresh eccentricity On closer observation Nothing's all that it seems to be Nothing's more than it seems to be
He scattered himself all over the place While hiding behind closed doors And day by dull day fell more off the pace A life suspended in live pause He gave of himself in fractional clues Oblique synchronicities But nobody knows how alien he grew How, drained away behind his open face He'd lost his identity
Now nothing else is left behind Just the fallen side of the sky A thousand miles away from home I feel the cold ghost breath fly by Out of the dream Now the image blurs Of how we seemed Of what we were