I'm sitting on the curb,   of the empty parking lot,   of the store where they let me play the organ   I'm waiting for my ride,   but I want to wait inside,   of the store where they let me play the organ      But I'm thinking of a wooden chair,   in the room at the top of the stair,   and I'm looking down the stairwell--      --at the vanishing dot,   on the map of the spot,   let me take you there   The dotted line surrounding the mind,   of a self called 'nowhere'   It's a thing named 'id'   in a bottomless pit   You can't see it there   The sunken head,   that lies in the bed,   of a self calle d 'nowhere'      Standing in my yard,   where they tore down the garage,   to make room for the tore-down garage   I'm looking for my car,    but I must have sold my car,   when I needed to buy an electric organ      But I'm thinking of a wooden chair,   in the room at the top of a stair,   and I'm looking down the stairwell--      --at the vanishing dot,   on the map of the spot,   let me take you there,   The dotted line surrounding the mind    of a self called 'nowhere'   It's a thing named 'id'   in a bottomless pit,    you can't see it there   The sunken head that lies in the bed    of a self called 'nowhere'      'Nowhere'      The vanishing dot,    on the map of the spot,    let me take you there   The dotted line,    surrounding the mind,    of a self called 'nowhere'    It's a thing named 'id',    in a bottomless pit    You can't see it there    the sunken head,    that lies in the bed    of a self called...