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 saw a shopping cart duel
in the supermarket aisle
Chorus:
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?
Chorus.
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
Chorus.
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 saw a shopping cart duel
in the supermarket aisle
Chorus:
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?
Chorus.
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
Chorus.