blueprint man
Tap dancing down the street.
The boy with the musical feet.
He’s got blueprints for what you need.
He carries them up his sleeve.
He’s got the blueprints for my soul.
He’s got repeating numbers on his skull.
Watch out there’s a bat in the air.
That boy used to be there.
What kind of story, what kind of plan.
That boy is young but he is some kind of man.
Blueprints are flying where there used to be birds.
Dead men are dying or haven’t you heard.
I’m shaking and I can’t even move.
The earth is quaking from the stamp of his hooves.
Just where did he get those feet?
Say “No” when he asks you to eat.
He’s got the blueprints for my heart.
He says, “Take a number and play any part”.
It don’t matter what I say.
Blueprints can be read four ways.
But they always come out the same.
Life is trumped by “What’s in a name?”
Blueprints aren’t blue any more.
His hand is minding the store.
He’s got the blueprints for my mind.
He’s got my money and I’ve lost the time.
I’m living on borrowed land
That is sitting right in the palm of his hand.
What kind of story, what kind of plan.
That boy is young but he is some kind of man.
Blueprints are flying where there used to be birds.
Dead men are dying or haven’t you heard.