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Mason was a soldier once but he won't tell you any tales |
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He lives in the place out back but no once sends him any mail |
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A private, driven man, he has no parts to spare |
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I try to catch his eye as he goes down the stairs |
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In the basement he makes furniture |
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While he's talking to himself |
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When he talks to the furniture |
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Sometimes we send fo rhelp |
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He lets his secrets go with a mallet and some pegs |
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A chair that has one arm or a table with no legs |
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He never speaks to me |
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He'll never speak to you |
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Mason understands furniture |
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Is that enough? |
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Idon't mind the noise he makes, |
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It's because of where he's been |
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It's his right to shut me out, still I wish he'd let me in |
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If he were a friend of mine he might help me to know |
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All the places that he's been not where I can go |
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Mason was a soldier once, now he just takes medicine |
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It leaves him speechless, it leaves me wondering |
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About his shining path, the pictures on his shelf |
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Anything to keep me from wondering about myself |
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He never speaks to me |
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He'll never speak to you |
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Mason understands furniture |
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Is that enough? |
