By the empty parking lot
Of the store where they let me play the organ
I'm waiting for my ride
But I want to wait inside
Of the store where they let me play the organ

But I'm thinking of a wooden chair
In a room at the top of the stair
And I'm looking down the stairwell
At the vanishing dot
On the map of the spot

let me take you there
The dotted line
Surrounding the mind
Of a self called nowhere

It's a thing named "it"
in a bottomless pit
You can't see it there
The sunken head
That lies in the bed
Of a self called nowhere

Standing in my yard
Where they tore down the garage
To make room for the torn down garage
I'm looking for my car
But I must've sold my car
When I needed to buy an electric organ
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