In the pilot's chair, in the first seat of the plane, And from where I sit, the view's just the same. Over the garden now, we turn on down your street. This is where you live, but there's no home I see. Thought that was all you desired, A reclusive hero for hire. Just put one back on the shelf, Knowing that you won't sleep well. In a crowded room, there's not much room to breathe. It seems the kitchen now is quite the scene. The words came off my wrist, washed by the rain Of a thousand tears that came too late. They couldn't spell out your name, Living beneath feeling pain, Thought that was all you desired, A reclusive hero for hire. Now you're beginning to tire, A desperate hero for hire. Just put one back on the shelf, Knowing that you won't sleep well. I'm walking down the street, absorbed by this maze.