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