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There's a kind of comfort in the whirring of a fan, The dimmed studio lights and turning counters. The soundproofing a barrier to the hostile world outside, It can carry on without us But out there it's changing by the instant And I'm in here on my own. I kid myself that you are in here with me, And you're speaking through me now, That evrything I do in here's for "US" not just for me but I never could quite explain how The room is empty,, or, the room is full Inspiration comes and goes.... but In the end we became each others tea-break Togetherness was just supposed. And inside I just never could see that But out here it just seems so clear. |
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