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