I saw you in my bedroom again last night
croaking on a toadstool with your bagpipe.
I saw you in the corner sipping Singapore Slings
with the lizards and dragons and fairy-tale kings.
"Welcome to Small Town," she says to me.
"We've got endangered species and absinthe dreams."
The flowerbeds are blooming on my windowsill.
Bombs keep falling. The army's dressed to kill.
You are the photograph I've never seen.
You are my phantom, the fountain of dreams.
I've been living in a mortuary my whole life long.
There's a vampire in the closet smiling at me.
He casts spells with chocolate and coconut cream.
The rabbit hole is waiting outside my cave.
My tightrope is burning. We must be saved.
You are the photograph I've never seen.
You are my phantom, the fountain of dreams.
I've been living in a mortuary my whole life long, my whole life long.
And if I could, I'd film my dreams
and show you what's inside.
We'd watch them on the silver screen
and you would run and hide.
And if I could, I'd chop up my brain
and show you what's in there.
We'd fly her on a big jet plane
in a box that says "Handle with Care.
First Class for Major Repairs"
You are the photograph I've never seen.
You are my phantom, the fountain of dreams.
I've been living in a mortuary my whole life long, my whole life long, my whole life long, my whole life long.
