I traveled though the atmosphere as a wall of feedback climbed

The pegs were gold, the band was old, they played in half time

Now every dream gets whittled down just like every fool gets wise

You will never reap of any seed deprived of sunlight



So I have become the Middleman

The gray areas are mine

The in-between, the absentee

Is a beautiful disguise



So I keep my footlights shining bright just like I keep my exits wide

'Cause I never know when it's time to go, it's too crowded now inside

The dead can hide beneath the ground and the birds can always fly

But the rest of us do what we must in constant compromise



So I have become the Middleman

The gray areas are fine

The "I don't know," the "maybe so"

Is the only real reply

It is the only true reply