Phantasthma - Ariel Pink

Old friend on the phone

He bids you well on your subscriptions

Lesser men, abandon power

Remove the voice that cuts the air

And while the sister brews the tea

You think «I wish she knew the real me.»

Apologize for words

He gave you a turn to hurt her

Let it beat you down again

One final conquest to convey

And with emotions made of clay

For hands cannot proclaim

(Phantasthma, phantasthma, phantasthma)

Sitting in the park, reading the dawn

It tells all your stories

Checkout time, the concrete grass

I knew you were real

Now you’re mine again

And what a fantastic morning

What a fantastic morning