I'm sitting on the curb By the empty parking lot Of the store where they let me play the organ I'm waiting for my ride But I want to wait inside Of the store where they let me play the organ
But I'm thinking of a wooden chair In a room at the top of the stair And I'm looking down the stairwell At the vanishing dot On the map of the spot
Let me take you there The dotted line Surrounding the mind Of a self called nowhere
It's a thing named "it" In a bottomless pit You can't see it there The sunken head That lies in the bed Of a self called nowhere
Standing in my yard Where they tore down the garage To make room for the torn down garage I'm looking for my car But I must've sold my car When I needed to buy an electric organ
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