She wears her Japanese silk slippers
She's standing in a blizzard of post-it notes on an Afghan rug and smiles
I comb a hand through my hair
I'm fumbling for a word but it's not there
There's just a blind spot in my memory
A friend wrote me a letter from his cigarette break
He says he kind of found religion now
He says he's doing fine
A motorbike is roaring by outside
I think it would be nice to take a ride or spend a while in someone else's head
On the street the psychedelic alcoholic from number 14 passes me by
He grins as if he knew something
Rent a flat, says a poster, rent a thought, rent a lifestyle
Today I watched a shopping cart duel in the supermarket aisle
No sweets in the sweet shop, no wind in the tree tops and there's something in the air
Early snow in October, all the drunkards are sober and there's something in the air
All the while I think I gotta leave,
no-one's nice these days and no-one pays their bills and I've been told
My heart's in perfect shape
Salesmen mumble bible quotings on the radio like tinnitus
Irony is over, take the trash out Who said that
No sweets in the sweet shop, no wind in the tree tops and there's something in the air
Early snow in October, all the drunkards are sober and there's something in the air
She wears her Japanese silk slippers
She's standing in a blizzard of post-it notes on an Afghan rug and smiles
The world has turned into a blur with only random scenes in focus cut-out images
I cannot possibly explain
No sweets in the sweet shop, no wind in the tree tops and there's
something in the air
Early snow in October, all the drunkards are sober and there's something in the air
No sweets in the sweet shop, no wind in the tree tops and there's something in the air
Early snow in October, all the drunkards are sober and there's something in the air