What Do You Hear in These Sounds

I don't go to therapy to find out if I'm a freak

I go and I find the one and only answer every week

And it's just me and all the memories to follow

Down any course that fits within the fifty-minute hour

And we fathom all the mysteries explicit and inherent

When I hit a rut, she says to try the other parent

And she's so kind, I think she wants to tell me something

But she knows that it's much better if I get it for myself

And she says, "Ooh, ahh, what do you hear in these sounds?"

And "Ooh, ahh, what do you hear in these sounds?"

I said, "I hear a dove with the voice of true believing

And the promises to stay and the footsteps that are leaving"

And she says, "Oh," I say, "What?" She says, "Exactly"

I say, "What? You think I'm angry?

Does that mean you think I'm angry?"

She says, "Look, you come here every

Week with jigsaw pieces of your past

It's all on little sound bites and voices I heard of photographs

And that's all yours, that's the guide, that's the map

So tell me, where does the arrow point to? Who invented roses?"

And I, "Ooh, ahh, what do you hear in these sounds?"

And "Ooh, ahh, what do you hear in these sounds?"

And when I talk about therapy I know what people think

That it only makes you selfish and in love with your shrink

But oh, how I loved everybody else

When I finally got to talk so much about myself

And I wake up and I ask myself what state I'm in

And I say, "Well, I'm lucky, 'cause I am like East Berlin"

I had this wall and what I knew of the free world

Was that I could see their fireworks and I could hear their radio

And I thought that if we met I would only start confessing

And they'd know that I was scared, they would know that I was guessing

But the wall came down and there they stood before me

With their stumbling and their mumbling

And their calling out just like me

And ooh, ahh, the stories that nobody hears

And I collect these sounds in my ears

And ooh, ahh, that's what I hear in these sounds