John Mark Thomas. Here Goes Nothing. Follow The Phantom. Zeneszám

With the best of intentions
I glue my rump to a chair
And try hard to spend the next few minutes in prayer
But something smells funny
A fly keeps buzzing my head
When I look through my eyelids the world is red

I entertain tangents and I play with my hair
I follow the Phantom into his lair
I think about castles and the knights who lived there
And I follow the Phantom into his lair

I hear your small whisper
Or is it just the radio?
I want to think of you but there my mind goes
Starting to drift now
Did I hear myself snore?
Would it help to slam my hand in the door?

And I say to myself don't you dare!
Follow that Phantom into his lair
But then there's that cute girl and my mind's it stares
And I follow the Phantom into his lair