Well the glory goes to those nwho do not seek itnreveling in midnight clothesnamong the wickednpicking scabs from off their skinnand rolling holy deeply innto the rhythm called the songnthat does not endnnyou remind me of somethingna song that I am and younsing me back into myselfnwhen I wake, when I'm sleeping nthe song is a man and a womannand everything elsennand my mother is a good onenas they gonshe does not condone the actionsnthat I do that she don't knownshe swears nightly before restingnthat I give her soul a testingnwhen I sing this songnthat does not endnnyou remind me of somethingna song that I am and younsing me back into myselfnwhen I wake, when I'm sleeping nthe song is a man and a womannand everything elsennit's been years since I found itnI still go where it poundednmy ears pressed to the chestnof that one womans of songnshe adores me, she ignores menand I revel onnin wonder at somethingnso sweet and so longnnI like the places where the nightndoes not mean an endnwhere smiles break freenand surpirse is your friendnand dancging goes on in the kitchennuntil dawnnto my favorite songnthat has no endnnyou remind me of somethingna song that I am and younand you sing me back into myselfnwhen I wake, when I'm sleeping nthe song is a man and a womannand everything else