Letras
Like a cloud his fingers explode
On the typewriter ribbon, the shadow grows
His heart's in a bowl behind the bank
And every evening when he gets home
To make his supper and eat it alone
His black shirt cries while his shoes get cold
It's just his dream he keeps having
Hoo-hoo-hoo
It doesn't seem to mean anything
It's just his dream he keeps having
It doesn't seem to mean anything
One summer, a suicide
Another autumn, a travelers guide
He hits snooze twice before he dies
And every evening when he gets home
To make his supper and eat it alone
His black shirt cries while his shoes get cold
It's just his dream he keeps having
Hoo-hoo-hoo
It doesn't seem to mean anything
It's just a dream he keeps having
Hoo-hoo
It doesn't seem to mean anything
He feels lucky to have you here
In his kitchen, in your chair
Sometimes he forgets that you're even there
Hoo-hoo
It doesn't seem to mean anything