A boy on a train with a birthmark on his forehead Listening to language tapes and all he hear is birds Everyone laughs cause he brings his own chair to the office Convinced that the cushions will give him steadier thoughts The muscles of the intellectuals are atrophying Nobody's running, nobody's hiding They're lit by a light that isn't even the sun Lit by a light that isn't even the moon Ave maria... Now how many times have i told you not to go there? How many times have i begged you not to go? And how many times have you snuck down to that cellar Just to watch how the roots begin to grow straight up through our floor?
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