He likes to have the morning paper, crossword solved
Words go up, words come down, forwards backwards twisted round
He grabs a pile of letters from a small suitcase
Disappears into an office, it's another working day
Chorus:
And his thoughts are full of strangers
Corridors of naked lights
And his mind once full of reason
Now there's more than meets the eye
Oh a stranger's face he carries with him
He likes a bit of reading on the subway home
A distant radio whistling tunes that nobody knows
At home a house awaits him, he unlocks the door
Thinking once there was a sea here but there never was a door
And his thoughts are full of strangers
And his eyes too numb to see
And nothing that he knows of
And nowhere where he's been
Was ever quite like this, yeah
Chorus
And at heart he's full of strangers
Dodging on his train of thought
Train of thought
