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