I wake up and look upon your painted eyelids.
The world is your oyster and the trash bags are your kids.
The ceiling is invisible. There's a bird sinking through the sky.
And every hour that passes is teaching me how to cry.
'Cause it's lonely here in the ugly part of town.
The buildings are all vacant and the telephones are down.
There's a police siren singing like a tiger with no skin.
The sewer drain is glowing and I don't know which state I'm in.
And the river is on fire. There's chemicals and debris.
And all the roads are blocked off. They're just too hard to see.
So cancel my appointments and set up a whole new show.
'Cause I'm in need of a good hot meal and a life to call my own.
So get me a plate of money and get me a blanket and a chair.
The limitations are limitless. They're floating through the air.
'Cause it's real and it's true—the things I see in you.
And there's nothing I wouldn't talk about.
You're the clearest dream that ever drifted by.