"The Man Who Turned Into A Chair" lyrics

"The Man Who Turned Into A Chair"

When I was a boy
I couldn't stop running
I ran just to feel
The wind in my face
Then one day I said
I'm tired of running
I think I might try
Staying in one place for a while

He slipped off his Oxfords and picked up the crossword
The man who turned into a chair
He loosened his belt and he cursed second helpings
The man who turned into a chair
Out there was disorder, in here all was good
A fine blend of corduroy, leather and wood
And as evening slipped in his mind started drifting
The man who turned into a chair

I'd like to come back
Come back as a martin
The martins that fly
Down by the lock
And if I come back
Come back as a martin
I'll swoop and I'll dive
I'll never stop
No, I'll never, ever stop

The change did not scare him, he'd rather stopped caring
The man who turned into a chair
A fusing of diverse and disparate fibres
The man who turned into a chair
His wife didn't notice till it was too late
And she could no longer differentiate
'Tween husband and wing-back, oh please, someone bring back
My man, he's turned into a chair

Here I am
Where?
Here

It cradled his thighs and it coddled his soul
No one was surprised when it swallowed him whole
There's no return when you're part of the furniture
The man who turned into a chair
The man who turned into a chair


You May Also Like
Gomez - "Tijuana Lady" Take me down To where you hide Lay me down Lay down inside Why, do you scowl? About the specific time Tijuana lady, where did you go, yeah? I've been chasin' you around old Mexico, yeah Gotta, find...
Baxter Dury - "Prince Of Tears" Prince of tears, prince of tears No one's gonna love you more than us Prince of tears, prince of tears No one's gonna love you more than us I'm a prince of tears Who stood on this driveway Washing...
Ocean Colour Scene - "The Day We Caught The Train" I never saw it as the start It's more a change of heart Rapping on the windows, whistling down the chimney pot Blowing off the dust in the room where I forgot I laid my plans in solid rock Stepping...
The Beautiful South - "Rotterdam" And the women tug their hair Like they're trying to prove it won't fall out And all the men are gargoyles Dipped long in Irish stout The whole place is pickled The people are pickles for sure...
The Style Council - "Speak Like A Child" Your hair hangs in golden steps You're a bonafide in every respect You are walking through streets that mean nothing to you You believe you're above it and I don't really blame you Maybe that's why...