If you give a man an island, he will promptly ask for the sea
So tell him the salt inside the waves will have to do
Like the seasons, I repeat myself to make sure I'm real
Real enough to keep the mask from falling; to stay up straight like a waterless dam
Light is metered, but darkness is free
When the invoice arrives, just bill it to me
Summer's heat dried Autumn's leaves
Winter came and brought its chill
In Spring she tended to the garden
And so she married for the thrill
Time is never lost, but given away
Or at least it's better to think that way
You are the needle that's scratching my records
I hate the sound, but I love this song
You are the car, I am only the driver
You are the lawyer that is proving me wrong
Knobs are turning to change the station
The only words that I can make out
Are "sell" and "soul" and "new" and "old"
So instead I'll just turn it off
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