The Piano Knows Something I Don't Know

I won't cut my beard And I won't change my hair It grows like fancy flowers But it grows nowhere, my hair, my hair If I could build my house Just like the Trojan Horse I'd put a statue of myself Upon the shelf of course, of course, of course She's the smoke, she's dancing fancy pirouettes Swan diving off of the deep end of my tragic cigarette She's steam laughing on the window panes The never-ending swaying haze Oh, that ever smiling maze Oh, that ever smiling maze ballet Everything's gone missing I've lost more songs to floods I can't prove this makes any sense But I sure hope that it does Perhaps I was born with curiosity Of the likes of those of old crows Of the likes of those of old crows And oh, how that piano knows The piano knows something I don't know I won't cut my beard And I won't change my hair It grows like fancy flowers But it grows nowhere, my hair, my hair If I could build my house Just like the Trojan Horse I'd put a statue of myself Upon the shelf of course, of course, of course Of course, of course, of course Of course, of course, of course Of course