I feel knotted up today,
but in a most exquisite way.
Like neckties or like macramé,
bowlines and zeppelin bends.


If you were a theremin,
I wouldn’t know where to begin.
My hands would stay here on my chin
with a hum that never ends.


This suit doesn’t fit me.
I made it myself, counterfeitly,
with buttons of blue
killing me with déjà vu.
It’s a gift for you...


...When I escape at last.
When enough time has passed.
But something keeps me as a pet:

The only house that’s not on fire yet.
I made it when I was an architect.
This is just the side effect.


I feel strangely regular,
but honestly, I prefer it to the usual bizarre.
Damn that oxymoron.


If you were a piece of dust,
I’d shine a light through the busted window
and I’d learn to trust
in the updraft that you’re on.


Click click, auto-focus.
The film’s in the can like hocus-pocus.
A picture of you
killing me with déjà vu.
Don’t know what I’ll do...


...When I escape at last.
When the end of time has passed.
But something keeps me as a pet:

The only house that’s not on fire yet.
I made it when I was an architect.
This is just the side effect.


The punch line is:
There is no punch line.

The punch line is:
There is no punch line.

The punch line is:
There is no punch line.

The punch line is that there is no punch line.

The punch line is that there is no punch line.

The punch line is that there is no punch line.

The punch line is:
There is no punch line.

The punch line is:
There is no punch line.


Oh! I just thought of how to change all the hate
into love, with the old switcheroo.
Dancing in my déjà vu.
You’ll be dancing, too...


When I escape at last,
When the future is the past.
But something keeps me as a pet:

The only house that’s not on fire yet.
The only house that’s not on fire yet.
The only house that’s not on fire yet.
The only house that’s not on fire...

(Yet).