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