The sound of the foghorn
it tears me from my sleep
I'm much too tired for the waking
but too wired for the sheep
and the ember(?) is on the table
the sword is on the door
it's time to pick up breadcrumbs that you spilled upon the floor
i can't forget to put the pipe in my mouth for the smell (?)
well tell the neighbours that i'm on the beat again so please don't pause at
any strange and darkened corners, for that's where i'm looking first
i'm rip the groceries from your arms and empty the contents of your purse
me and you, watson
me and you, watson
me and you, watson
me and you, watson
oh and i don't need nothing
oh, i can feel nothing
I need (?)
The joke is on me and it somehow always seems to be
i went looking for some hard clues (?) of the inner city trees
and you were nowhere to be found
you were nowhere to be seen
it's getting late at night, i was (?) for a cup of tea(?)
I'm sitting in my room again, still waiting for your call
i got a blister on my forehead from when i leaned against the wall
and my notebook's full of memories too sad for one to tell
about the time that you were next to me shaking, shaking
me and you, watson
me and you, watson
me and you, watson
me and you, watson
oh and i don't need nothing
oh, i can feel nothing
I need (?)
