the book on how to change part II

When I want to misbehave
I think about my mother’s grave
And the book on how to change
Wasn’t written in one day
If I had to rearrange
The messages, they take their shape
Like photographs taken from
The book on how to change
You are an anchor
Holding, holding me under
I don’t have that memory
Waking from the deepest sleep
A difference between life and dream
I thought I heard your voice
It was just the TV screen
So on the brightest clear blue day
A boomerang, an aeroplane
Suddenly wanting to negotiate
You are an anchor
Holding, holding me under
I don’t have that memory
No, I don’t have that memory
No, I don’t have that memory
No, I don’t have that
You can’t survive on milk alone
Or carving mirrors out of stone
I thought I heard your voice
It was just the telephone
So when I want to feel misplaced
I think about my mother’s face
And the book on how to change
Never taught me anything