I lifted up the storm drain and pushed my hands into the dirt
there's a secret here hidden somewhere
and the words repeated psalm-like cause that's my birthright.
I wondered if I could get low enough to the ground with my headphones on and the fire ants biting at my hands...
don't worry there's a master plan
I was bitten by a sour frame of mind that day
and I didn't mean to treat you in a hurtful way
but my dreams had all expired and my thoughts were static
I was looking at my future in a box in the attic
will you please come see me, we could form a new band
does that sound like a reacouring bad luck hand
I'm a microphone
I'm a tambourine
I'm a record sleeve
I'm a melatron
I'm your man
I shall wear the impossible dream in a tattoo on my arm for my friends to see
to remind me when my focus turns from love to depression
and I'll pray to George Harrison's reincarnation
It was After The Gold Rush spinning in my heart
and I thought we could invent a supernatural art
but the band went down in a fiery zeppelin
and I smashed my guitar at the gates of heaven
and the well in the Murakami book went dry
Mr Wind Up Bird can you tell me why
So I looked for the answer in Norwegian Wood
and the million little pieces of my childhood
the billion little pieces of my childhood.
I'm a perfect rhyme
I'm a drum machine
I'm a radio
I'm a symphony
I'm your man
