He comes and goes just like hands opening doors
And he falls before everything, but he leaves
And he goes by A. Glum Swoboda
Beyond the skyline, a great sapphire lens
Shining down on a framed picture of twins
Only one has gotten away
Guitar in the window that no ghost child ever played
And he's not looking down or around on the long cruise compete
And no more rock groups off the street
Oh no
We come and go, but we must know where to sit
Yellow door, parkade floor, block of squares
An abode for A. Glum Swoboda
Construction worker walking slow in his sandpaper suit
A Jehovah's Witness talking to a hard sale
A cocktail lemonade in his hand
And they're all sleeping too deep to strike up any band
Oh no
Oh no
Oh no
