I was tripping down the hallways, I mean she must be movingnI walk through easter Sunday, exploding and always losingnThings get loose then turned around like a rainbow golden magnetnTake the bus but don't get in, I feel the freight train is nearly herennAnd her house is made of glass woo whoooo ooonAnd her house is made of glass woo whoooo ooonnShe must feel lost inside like a moving misused golden puzzlenAnd the puzzles missing pieces, all she wants is her canteennCartwheel down the sidewalk, don't forget to use the speakers I gave younI must have missed a turn somewhere, I'm almost there through the broken windownnAnd her house is made of glass woo whoooo ooonAnd her house is made of glass woo whoooo ooo