Like a whisper whispered through a microphone,
Yesterday I was Superman,
Today I have no more ideas,
Tomorrow I will go back to yesterday.
The sound of the saxophone jazzin',
it always gads with its friend's own style, the guitar and drums.
They all jazz when they feel like makin',
their disease for free sessions, their notes free from logical forms.
Like a rose getting up from sleep in the snow sun,
Yesterday I figured out tomorrow,
Today I discovered the proof, the world is a triangle,
Tomorrow I will burn my hand just for fun.
