He likes to have the morning paper 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 light 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 eye's to numb to see There ain't nothing that he's fond of And nowhere where he's been Was ever quite like this And his thoughts are full of strangers Corridors of naked light And his mind once full of reason Now there's more than meets the eye Oh, a stranger's face he carries with him And at heart, he's full of strangers Dodging on his train of thought Train of thought