I'm a prescient chap, I can see far ahead,
But I can't do a thing cause I'm stuck on a bed
Can't move a muscle - can't make a sound,
The bagman is coming, the bagman is coming,
The bagman is coming, quaking the ground
Trying to find a key to this brain, trying to switch on the body again
The bagman is coming dragging his coal, sucking my essence into his hole.
Trying to get the body to lift.
It just lies there silent and stiff
The bagman is coming, the bagman is coming,
I try to scream out - and fall off a cliff.
Wooohhh
Everything changes, spinning through air, slipping past clouds, haven't a care
I'm loving the feeling, free in the sky, an idea appears – “you can fly”!
I open my wings, perfect control, a swoop and a wheel and a dive and a roll
Blue sky white clouds totally free, I'm Jonathon Livingston skimming the sea
How high can I fly, right out of the sky, straight past the moon in the blink of an eye
I'm digging the feeling, but it's like I’m not mortal,
and a sign on a door says ‘Enter this portal’.
Wooohhh
Ursa minor, below and above, we're part of a galaxy part of the love
We hold it together, we push it apart, bursting with energy beat like a heart
Knock on the door, open my eyes “Cuppa?” says mum. “Thought I'd surprise”.
Everyone loves you and hopes you get well, Alan and Ann will be round in a spell
Dad's coming back with Sandy and Faye and the doctors believe
There's a cure on the way, a cure on the way, a cure on the way…
I'm a prescient chap, I can see far ahead, but most of my seeing is done from a bed
I wait for the bagman – perhaps he'll appear
But seems that he's finished
It seems that he's finished
Seems that he's finished
His work around here.