The Piano Knows Something I Don't Know

I won't cut my beard and I won't change my hair

It grows like fancy flowers but it grows nowhere

My hair, my hair

If I could build my house just like the Trojan horse

I'd put a statue of myself upon the shelf

Of course, of course, of course

She's the smoke

She's dancin' fancy pirouettes

Swan diving off of the deep end

Of my tragic cigarette

She's steam

Laughing on the windowpanes

The never-ending swaying haze

Oh, that ever smiling maze

Oh, that ever smiling maze

Ballet

Everything's gone missing

I've lost more songs to floods

I can't prove this makes any sense but

I sure hope that it does

Perhaps

I was born with curiosity

The likes of those of old crows

The likes of those of old crows

And oh, how the piano knows

The piano knows something

I don't know

I won't cut my beard and I won't change my hair

It grows like fancy flowers but it grows nowhere

My hair, my hair

If I could build my house just like the Trojan horse

I'd put a statue of myself upon the shelf

Of course, of course, of course

Of course, of course, of course

Of course, of course, of course