Hey Man Something's Changed

White cotton on the floor,
Pirouetting 'neath the old oak door.
Eye's shut tight to block the storm
In this room.

Glass cold and broken breath
Hand-print the pane while I climb the stairs.
The ghost who lives there - he's my friend,
he is wise... he is wise.

This is my last night's dream:
Drunk and talkin' to the moon again.
Nothin's new, no changed positions.
Whats to say to that?

I live that dream like reality.
Reality in every which way.
Can't even see from my seat on these stairs.
Like an empty sky, no sparks in sight.

Self made rag doll on the chair.
How strange - I used to sit right there.
Hey man, something's changed.
I am not myself, I am some one else.

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