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.