Nothing here to fear. I'm just sitting around, Being foolish when there is work to be done. Just a hang-up call and the quiet breathing, Of our Persian we call Cajun on a Wednesday. So we go from year to year with secrets we've been keeping. Though you say you're not a Templar man. Seems as if we're circling for very different reasons. But one day the Eagle has to land.
Out past the fountain, a left by the station, I start the day in the usual way. Then think 'well why not' and stop for a coffee, Then begin to recall things that you say.
No one's at the door. You suggest a ghost,
Perhaps a phantom I agree with this in part. Something is with us I can't put my finger on, Is Thumbelina size ten on a Wednesday? So we go from year to year with secrets we've been keeping. Though you say you're not a Templar man. You tell me to cheer up, you suspect we're oddly even. Even, still, the Eagle has to land.
Out past the fountain, a left by the station, I start the day in the usual way. Then think 'well why not' and stop for a coffee, Then begin to recall things that you say. Pluck up the courage and snap, it's gone again. I start humming 'When Doves Cry.' Can someone help me, I think that I'm Lost here. Lost in a place called America...