| Walking 'round and 'round in circles
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| Locked inside himself
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| The funny farm where he can’t hurt us
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| Or what we all believe
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| Mute and deaf with no obsessions
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| A broken watch, he got
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| He’s the one that got no questions
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| Not a word to breathe
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| And there, you see that he flies
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| Across the room, like a swan
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| The colors sparkle and change
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| Stars are born 'round a flashing sun
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| Then it all just stopped, the temperature, it dropped
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| It was so quiet, I couldn’t hear the sound of grief, no more
|
| We walked into the room, the small and padded room
|
| I looked down on the man that laid crying on the floor
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| The mother of life is a whore!
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| Always drooling, walking backwards
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| Never dries his tears
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| Come and see the man of miracles
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| But please don’t come so near
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| Writing weird stuff, slow and patient
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| I think it’s something deep
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| Then he tries some levitation
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| Before he disappears
|
| And there, you see that he flies
|
| Across the room, like a swan
|
| The colors sparkle and change
|
| Stars are born 'round a flashing sun
|
| Then it all just stopped, the temperature, it dropped
|
| It was so quiet, I couldn’t hear the sound of grief, no more
|
| We walked into the room, the small and padded room
|
| I looked down on the man that laid crying on the floor
|
| The mother of life is a whore!
|
| A rainy day, you too might meet him
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| Give him mercy please
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| It won’t be long until we’ll need him
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| And all that’s beautiful
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| If he speaks, the world will tremble
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| A dream of love, we’ll see
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| He’s our all, the cosmic centre
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| We are spinning 'round
|
| And there, you see that he flies
|
| Across the room, like a swan
|
| The colors sparkle and change
|
| Stars are born 'round a flashing sun
|
| Then it all just stopped, the temperature, it dropped
|
| It was so quiet, I couldn’t hear the sound of grief, no more
|
| We walked into the room, the small and padded room
|
| I looked down on the man that laid crying on the floor
|
| The mother of life is a whore! |