Nothing here to fear
I’m just sitting around
being foolish when
there is work to be done
Just a hang-up call
and the quiet breathing
of our Persian we call
Cajun on a Wednesday
so we go from year to year
with secrets we’ve been keeping
Though you say you’re not a Templar man
Seems as if we’re circling
for very different reasons
But one day the Eagle has to land
Out past the fountain
a left by the station
I start the day in the usual way
Then think — well why not —
and stop for a coffee
then begin to recall
things that you say
No one’s at the door
You suggest a ghost
perhaps a phantom
I agree with this in part
Something is with us
I can’t put my finger on —
is Thumbelina size 10
on a Wednesday —
so we go from year to year
with secrets we’ve been keeping
Though you say you’re not a Templar man
you tell me to cheer up
you suspect we’re oddly even
Even still the Eagle has to land
Out past the fountain
a left by the station
I start the day in the usual way
Then think — well why not —
and stop for a coffee
then begin to recall
things that you say
Pluck up the courage
and snap
It’s gone again
I start humming «When Doves Cry»
Can someone help me
I think that I’m Lost here
Lost in a place called America