The Piano Knows Something I Don't Know

I won't cut my beard and I won't change my hair 
It grows like fancy flowers but it grows nowhere 
My hair, my hair

 If I could build my house just like the Trojan horse
 I'd put a statue of myself upon the shelf 
Of course, of course, of course 

She's the smoke 
She's dancin' fancy pirouettes
 Swan diving off of the deep end 
Of my tragic cigarette 
She's steam 
Laughing on the windowpanes 
The never-ending swaying haze 
Oh, that ever smiling maze 
Oh, that ever smiling maze 
Ballet 

Everything's gone missing 
I've lost more songs to floods 
I can't prove this makes any sense but
 I sure hope that it does 
Perhaps I was born with curiosity
 The likes of those of old crows
 The likes of those of old crows

And oh, how the piano knows 
The piano knows something 
I don't know 

I won't cut my beard and I won't change my hair
 It grows like fancy flowers but it grows nowhere 
My hair, my hair

If I could build my house just like the Trojan horse 
I'd put a statue of myself upon the shelf 
Of course, of course, of course
Of course, of course, of course 
Of course, of course, of course Of course