the book on how to change part II

When I want to misbehave I think about my mother's grave And the book on how to change Wasn't written in one day If I had to rearrange The messages, they take their shape Like photographs taken from The book on how to change You are an anchor Holding, holding me under I don't have that memory Waking from the deepest sleep A difference between life and dream I thought I heard your voice It was just the TV screen So on the brightest clear blue day A boomerang, an aeroplane Suddenly wanting to negotiate You are an anchor Holding, holding me under I don't have that memory No, I don't have that memory No, I don't have that memory No, I don't have that You can't survive on milk alone Or carving mirrors out of stone I thought I heard your voice It was just the telephone So when I want to feel misplaced I think about my mother's face And the book on how to change Never taught me anything