If I was a writer
I\'d write of a clown
I\'d drop him In the desert
With no one around
I\'d fade in at night time
As his painted smile fades
The colour of a rainbow
On his knuckles now glazed
There\'s a world
There\'s a world
Inside your mind
You\'ll never get there
If you try to find
(Harmonica)
There\'d be no explanation
Of how he got there
There\'d be a nasty wound
On the side of his head
He\'d be holding a photograph
One he\'d look at and laugh
Then look to the sun
Making the sounds of a desperate man
There\'s a world
There\'s a world
Inside your head
You can only go there
To visit your dead
(Harmonica)
In the distance a beautiful woman
Screamed \"catch me if you can\"
But as the clown tried getting closer
He\'d sink in the sand
She held up a lighter
She held up a can
He held up his photo
Tight In his lazy left hand
It was a photo of the woman
That he couldn\'t catch
The photo did burn
Like a scorched summer leaf
And the woman did fall
To the world underneath
And there\'s a world
There\'s a world
Inside your mind
You\'ll never get there
If you try to find
There\'s a world
There\'s a world
Inside your head
You can only go there
To visit your dead
There\'s a world
There\'s a world
Behind your eyes
And once you finally close them
The world comes alive.