Who
makes your bed?
Who
holds your head when
You
spit the lead?
Where
do I look for you?
In dälek?
In
sound check booth?
I
want the truth
Are
you Eno-synth?
Or
too innocent
To
let me drown
Pull
me up
Then
pull me down down?
Who
makes my bed?
Who
holds my head
When
I spit the lead?
Am I
in you?
Or in
’64?
Or in
Tokyo
Do
you take me for dead
When
you walk on by
Never
saying hi?
Why
didn’t I
Let
you drown
And
pull you up
Just
to pull you down down?
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