Routine was the theme
He'd wash up and pour himself in uniform
Something he hadn't imagine being
As the merging traffic passed
He found himself staring down at his own hands
Not remembering the change
not recalling the plan
was it?

He was on but wondering
about wandering was it age
by consequence?
Or was he moved by sleight of hand?

Mondays were made to fall
lost on a road he knew by heart
wrapped in the same old walls
it was a book he read in his sleep
endlessly.....in his sleep

Sometimes he hid in the radio
watching others pull into their homes
While he was drifting

On the line of his own
off the line on the side
bye the by as dirt turned to sand
As if moved by sleight of hand

When he reached the shore of his clip
Onworld he resurfaced to the norm
Organized his few things, coat and keys
Any new realizations would have to wait
Til he had more time

Time to dream to himself
Wave goodbye to his own self
See you on the other side

Another man moved by sleight of hand