Take all my records, just leave me the sleeves
You can pull out their hearts and I'll take memories
Propellers are falling from the tops of the trees;
Cutting through space, cutting through space
Cutting through space, they fall into place
From Leuven to Losan the feeling just grew
And it took on the shape of a bird that you drew
Then all the way home from Paris you said
"People is place... people lose place...
People is place... and I feel misplaced."