The Piano Knows Something I Don't Know
I won't cut my beard and I won't change my hairIt grows like fancy flowers but it grows nowhereMy hair, my hair
If I could build my house just like the Trojan horseI'd put a statue of myself upon the shelfOf course, of course, of course
She's the smokeShe's dancin' fancy pirouettesSwan diving off of the deep endOf my tragic cigaretteShe's steamLaughing on the windowpanesThe never-ending swaying hazeOh, that ever smiling mazeOh, that ever smiling mazeBallet
Everything's gone missingI've lost more songs to floodsI can't prove this makes any sense butI sure hope that it doesPerhapsI was born with curiosityThe likes of those of old crowsThe likes of those of old crows
And oh, how the piano knowsThe piano knows somethingI don't know
I won't cut my beard and I won't change my hairIt grows like fancy flowers but it grows nowhereMy hair, my hair
If I could build my house just like the Trojan horseI'd put a statue of myself upon the shelfOf course, of course, of courseOf course, of course, of courseOf course, of course, of course