He's a schizoid man of mystery.
No one dares what he seems to me.
He's nowhere near reality.
This schizoid man of fantasy.

His hair is short and his eyes are brown.
He's living in a provincial town.
To his neighbours he is kind of a clown.
And on his head he wears a frown.

This schizoid man of mystery.
This riddle of insanity.
Has a secret in his heart of weed:
Two people in one body.

One has tried to take a dive
Outside the pool of trouble and strife.
The other lives a secret life
Inside the mind of a hyper speed drive.

The outside one is writing these words.
The inside one's showing where it hurts.
Both like stripping socks and shirts.
From bodies, free like birds.

His aim in life was to love them all.
His giant leap before the fall.
Now he hides and hears them call:.
'You're just a boy, no mystery at all.'