he takes someone right
and drunken passers-by
to somewhere out-of-date
I wouldn't see him again
I've got a hole in my brain
I'm sorry
here's the new-mown cloud
surely you'll be proud
you better kick me down
with a voice so shrill
right in front of the mill
I'll never ask about your name
'cause everybody has it
everybody has it
he plants nightmares, too
and makes them all come true
I don't really care
about what he will sing
which one he would bring
someday
someday
someday