Last we left our hero he was standing all alone at an ATM 
machineThey were both very out of order
Quite predictably that picture that he'd painted of the 
morning
It had begun to crack and peel, a photo finish of surreal
Is it true that we are nothing more than boxes sitting in 
the basement,
and the more that we keep looking, the harder we are to 
find?
The record keeps on spinning while the volume's way down
The needle takes its time falling in and out of line,
Well it's been a Strange day in Mexico.
Are we that dull that all the things that we used to do 
are never what we wanted to but ces la vie, and so it all 
goes until we think something is missing again
Our hero looks out of the bubble and he pours himself 
another and the wonder starts to fade away from the 
outside looking in, from the outside look in
We have a tendency to hide behind obscurity, but 
everyone's so beautiful
Why do we hide at all?
When you get to where you need to be won't you drop me a 
line
If the music's out of tune, at least I hope you like the 
view
Everybody, everybody, celebrate the good times
Champagne for everyone, but I'm not buying.