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