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He likes to have the morning paper's 
Crossword solved 
Words go up words come down 
Forwards backwards twisted round 
He grabs a pile of letters from a small suitcase 
Disappears into an office 
It's another working day 

And his thoughts are full of strangers 
Corridors of naked lights 
And his mind once full of reason 
Now there's more than meets the eye 
Oh, a stranger's face he carries with him 

He likes a bit of reading on the subway home 
A distant radio whistling tunes that nobody knows 
At home a house awaits him, he unlocks the door 
Thinking once there was a sea here 
But there never was a door 

And his thoughts are full of strangers 
And his eyes to numb to see 
And nothing that he knows of 
And nowhere where he's been 
Was ever quite like this 

And his thoughts... 

And at heart 
He's full of strangers 
Dodging on his train of thought 
Train of thought