Memory is a strange old trick, should it be something to address?
Memory is a strange old trick, should it be something to undress?
See the body behind there
Double mirrored I am right now and seen as I can see
The crook in our neck, for once wasn't unfamiliar
There's more to be read
Now here I am the passenger
Doctors, loved ones, heavy lifters, weight off the shoulders
-Instrumental chorus-

No pain do I feel, just structure as a symptom
My postures are postures of some
Should it be something to undress?
Then you took me up and I'm glad you like the work of surrealists
As their heads tilt to there, whilst their shoulders rests down here
Whilst the waist dances it's circles
Now here is a weight, I'm advised not lift
Why bother feeling weak when everyone around me can lift it
Your awareness seems to show contempt, why is that?
Just see us while we're here
Then ask questions to find out my limits
Our spines won't just, disappear
You know I shouldn't hassle with this
So a wonder spells you to check
After every bump in the road, as who knows what it was...?
O memory you strange old trick
-Instrumental chorus, end-