1, 2, 1, 2, 3... Know a man, his face seems pulled and tense Like he's riding on a motorbike in the strongest winds So I approach with tact, suggest that he should relax But he's always moving much too fast Said he'll see me on the flipside On this trip he's taken for a ride He's been taking too much on ... There he goes with his perfectly unkept clothes There he goes...
He's yet to come back, but I see his picture Doesn't look the same up on the rack We go way back
I wonder about his insides It's like his thoughts are too big for his size He's been taken, where, I don't know? Off he goes with his perfectly unkept clothes And there he goes...
And now I rub my eyes, for he has returned! Seems my preconceptions are what should have been burned For he still smiles, and he's still strong Nothing's changed, but the surrounding bullshit That has grown
And now he's home, and we're laughing like we always did My same old, same old friend Until a quarter-to-ten
I saw the strain creep in He seemed distracted and I know just what is gonna happen next Before his first step, he's off again
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