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 thumbalina size 10 on a wednesday -- 
so we go you tell me 
to cheer up 
you suspect we're oddly even 
even still 
the eagle has to land 
out past the fountain 
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