The Piano Knows Something I Don't Know

I won't cut my beard and I won't change my hairIt grows like fancy flowers but it grows nowhereMy hair, my hairIf I could build my house just like the Trojan horseI'd put a statue of myself upon the shelf Of course, of course, of courseShe's the smokeShe's dancin' fancy pirouettesSwan diving off of the deep end Of my tragic cigaretteShe's steamLaughing on the windowpanesThe never-ending swaying hazeOh, that ever smiling maze Oh, that ever smiling mazeBalletEverything's gone missingI've lost more songs to floodsI can't prove this makes any sense but I sure hope that it doesPerhapsI was born with curiosity The likes of those of old crowsThe likes of those of old crowsAnd oh, how the piano knows The piano knows something I don't knowI won't cut my beard and I won't change my hairIt grows like fancy flowers but it grows nowhereMy hair, my hairIf I could build my house just like the Trojan horseI'd put a statue of myself upon the shelf Of course, of course, of courseOf course, of course, of courseOf course, of course, of course