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
While hiding behind closed doors
And day by dull day fell more off the pace
A life suspended in live pause
He gave of himself in fractional clues
Oblique synchronicities
But nobody knows how alien he grew
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