The Balley A-Go-Go is where Nash mostly hangs out
With its wild, psychedelic parties and beatnik, hippy crowd
He doesn't sleep much cause of dreams that're violent and bad
He's always real tired, but he does the best that he can
He's gulping down coffee one day when approached
By a young teenage girl some of you may know
I have seen you here for the past few weeks,
In the wild nights and the wandering streets
And I've seen the things you can do with paint,
And I envy you the worlds you make
And I know I don't even know your name,
But you'rе young like me, with nowhere to stay
But we need your help, there are things like us,
Things that hide away, adrift and lost
Ok... I'm Nash. Hi. Why do you guys always sing everything?
My name is Mary. What are you talking about? I never sing
You guys really don't hear yourselves?
You are an odd one. You don't have a home, do you?
No, I don't. But I'm ok. I get by
I have seen the things that you do with paint,
And it's magic, please, you must come this way
There's a basement here where lost things dwell,
Like both of us, and they need your help
You can come here too to sleep or stay,
You look so tired, do you have a place?
I don't sleep much, I have real bad dreams
They're violent, cruel, I try not to sleep
Walk with me beneath
Down, below the streets
Come with me to see
The things hidden underneath
There's goblins, gnomes and creatures down
In basements underneath the town
They hide these creatures lost and worn
Running from Arcadia Corp
The mob would like them all to sell
To wealthy clients somewhere else
Arcadia would like them back
So hunted down here they stay trapped
Lost in places never known
Lost and far away from home
Hidden from the sight of sun
Rest before its time to run
Lost inside surreal parades
That pass by laughing every day
Dream of stray and misplaced suns
Rest before it's time to run
We've seen you paint amazing things
Windows into worlds undreamed
Doorways into magic lands
Their providence is now at hand
They'll describe a place, a world, to you
You'll paint it and when you are through
They'll step inside that window pane
And thus the lost at last escape
Lost in places never known
Lost and far away from home
Hidden from the sight of sun
Rest before its time to run
Lost inside surreal parades
That pass by laughing every day
Dream of stray and misplaced suns
Rest before it's time to run
And so Nash agrees to help the poor creatures escape
By doing that miracle he can do with his paints
They describe him a world, he paints it best he can do
And for a time it's alive and they pass through into