It's going through my mind, I can't stop thinking 
aboutThe moment he chose to get rid of the sound
He said « OK I need a couple of days
In order to estimate the number of songs left »
Covering a thousand pages like a brain in its cage
Trappped in the wheel of an impossible bet
He tried to plan all possibillities left
To make the twelve notes fit together
And you can see him maybe with his combinatorial baby
Just a traveller on a long long highway
Just a feeling that he's going crazy
Just a feeling that the whole masterplan
Was only looking for numbers
But Bob was singing along his operations, on his own
Maybe he spent too much time, maybe it wasn't enough
But finally he found out his three lines
A three lines number with a final figure
A perfect craft without a failure
« So it's all about that? » he said while shaking his 
head
Music is over or at least condemned
In very few years there will be no more hits
Just covers of covers and covers of hits
And you can see him maybe with his combinatorial baby
Just a traveller on a long long highway
Just a feeling that he's going crazy
Just a feeling that the whole masterplan
Was only looking for numbers
But Bob was singing along his operations, on his own