Who shall arise
And shine and then be the one I've held on for?
How shall I seek
In the mists, the one who passes through back doors?
And way out in the fields out of town
Well I bump into a troubadour
Well he sings to the fledgling stalks of corn
That row under the clouds downpour
But who cares, I've got to be the one
Who passes through a darkened door
And way out in the fields out of town
I bump into a troubadour
In a hut, where the eggs turn to stone
And I howl, "I can't take any more!"

When your heart is in Rome
When your scent is a thing that roams
When you're tapping on a tapped out phone
Grecians in a Keats back rub
Don't follow all the men who drowned
When you're old and cold and abandoned
You shall feel the feeling of abandoned
And you're really just stuck in the phantom of a period of time

Who takes the pulse of my folded palm
Who hears the pulse as I fold myself into your songs?
You are old and cold and abandoned
You shall feign the feeling of abandoned
And you're really just stuck in the phantom of a period of time
A period of time
A period of time
A period of time
A period of time
A period of time
A period of time
A period of time, no no no no no no