Dave Bidini, Martin Tielli, and Janet Morassutti The sixth sense of memory Runs a river near a road That travels up the parkway, Getting frozen in the snow Where what you see is what you see is what you see... And only some will know Where the ragged people go. Where the boozehounds, they bay, By the banks of the reservoir. Crows climb higher From their old familiar yard. The best thing in heaven Is supposed to be the sun That shines between two mountains And melts the Devil's gun, But what you see is what you see is what you see... And only some will know Where the ragged people go. Down here on Kipling, Where the streetlamps light the way, hey, There's talk of a reunion Of the ones who didn't stay. Why didn't they stay here And help me shovel the walk? (Why didn't they stay here?) Sick sense of melody Is what I hear when I'm alone. And I love it more than misery, And I love it more than home, And I cry 'cause I'm not with it, Even though I've never been... Where the dope fiends laugh And say it's too soon, They all go home and listen to The Dark Side of the Moon.