I'm nervous as I sit here alone Thinking about the idea of freedom I'm controlling all the wrong things And to think of any gain from it I must be dreaming I'll never be Brett Whiteley But someday I might like seeing from my own eyes I could be the elected Not rejected from the heavens in the sky I'm not sure if I should be doing this If this is even anything at all The autumn, it has blown in quick And I'm rushing to turn a new leaf Before they fall I'll never be Chris Bell But perhaps I could hang in the cosmos at night I could be the elected Not rejected from the heavens in the sky I'm a slave to hate my enemies And in doing so I guess that I am farther from God I'm not even in their memories But I've been thinking about forgiveness for too long I'll never be Meryl Streep But someday I might believe in my own lies I could be the elected Not rejected from the heavens in the sky Oh, to sleep so romantically