Wanda Westhare from Zaire--which is nowhere--was...

I lay in my bed, as I have for forty days,
Listening, listening...but always in a daze...

1st verse:
I wake up to another morning and still feel the...

The day I was born,
A robin was on the sill of my nursery...

I'm through,
I can not listen to another word...

We take for granted every day,
The morning, the sunrise, and we don't pray...

Travelling at five hundred times the speed of...
Cruising in my one-seater, as simple to fly as a...

The house next door was vacant,
For at least fifty years...

My job is hard to take,
It ain't no piece of cake...

I sit here with my head hung low,
Burdened with regrets, and a lifetime of tragedies...

I walk along this city-jungle,
I should, by now, be immune to its disease...

1st Verse:
Being with you is like owning my own cloud...