my head is a woodgrain box
covered in letters, covered in locks
can't understand the way people talk
and the worse the weather
the louder they squawk
like crows screeching outside the window
i was sure there was somewhere i didn't go
can't recall all the things
that i used to know
dreaming of lovers in limbo

and people like us, are likely to sigh
as we watch our fortune float on by
'cause i got this habit
of coming up dry
even when the tide is high
but i don't cry, i don't complain
about the comin' of the rains
or the water in my weatherveins
yeah, it's the want and the worry
that drive us insane

well, my heart is an open book
if you don't believe, just have a look
it's all there, except the part i took
to prove i'm not a liar
if you're not a crook
and in my head it keeps repeating
a box with locks and a pulse that's fleeting
someday the two should have a meeting
'cause my mind may hide away
but my heart can take a beating...