So, driven to distraction
By witless repartee
And wittering conversation
Of deep banality

Eventually

He seeks out interaction
Fresh eccentricity
On closer observation
Nothing's all that it seems to be

Nothing's more than it seems
To be

He scattered himself all over the place (He scattered himself)
While hiding behind closed doors (Hiding behind closed doors)
And day by dull day fell more off the pace (And day after day)
A life suspended in live pause

He gave of himself in fractional clues (He gave of himself, it's true)
Oblique synchronicities (How weakly the voice came through)
But nobody knows how alien he grew (Nobody knows)
How, drained away behind his open face
He'd lost his identity
Now, nothing else
Is left behind
Just the fallen side
Of the sky

A thousand miles
Away from home
I feel the cold
Ghost breath fly by

Out of the dream
Now the image blurs
Of how we seemed
Of what we were