Pools of un-understanding. Sometimes I just want to stand there and tell you that I don't know. And I really don't.

But for now, I can say that this is all very restful. Like a pendulum on the down swing, I'm coming back to real.

I don't care to say what
I failed to recognize
Every single day from the poker to the prize
Running out of Springfield
I worked for the Capitol Air, in the bags
Found a woman there who said
She had a mind to make
Me a messenger man

If my father took his life
For the national plan, I don't care
I'm not about to stick my grave with an
Apron and a bucket of plans, never ever
I can take the pillow cases
Off the yellow pillows
Make a property line from the bed
In the living room, the living room
The morning papers made the most
Out of nothing at all

So we took the room
With a view of the runaway
I took off my clothes
And she took it for a holiday
I was taken for all the things
That I never had before
Running out of Springfield
She left me with a note saying:
"Bobby, don't look back"

And if my wife took a bicycle ride
With a knife in her hand
I saw it coming
All the shadflies run at once
With a trumpet or a train
Oh, I'm running from it

Wait a minute, wait a minute
Give a minute, lady
I can explain the aftershave
Wait a minute, wait a minute
Give a minute
Bobby got a shadfly
Caught in his hair