She carries on her conversations, on her ownPleasing, but never one to be wrongEvery day goes eerily calm, when she is doneShe gave a sigh, the morning wears her down to sizeFeeling, everything's going wrongAnd every day moves eagerly on, while others stallJust knock if you can hear her from withinAre you inclined to let her inShe's into freaksI'm working on the notion that she caredWatching the way she combs her hairShe's into freaksShe's leaving bye, bye...She walks around the Californian groundShe's in my head, and California bentShe stays at home and plants her garden full of stonesThinking, somehow everything growsAnd every day moves further along, the path she'd sown
Lyrics by Telepathic Butterflies