A private hideaway

On a bright and busy street

An unmarked door disguises

Where universes meet.

I know nobody else can tell

And though it's nothing I can sell

It's like a world in which I dwell

The single thing I do so well.

I hunt perfection down

It’s the way I earn my pay

But inspiration calls

In a wholly other way.

Rare events, experiments

Conclusions lost and found

Mysteries, epiphanies

With no one else around.

And though nobody else can tell

It's clearly nothing I can sell

This hidden world in which I dwell

The single thing I do so well.

And if our eyes should meet

On this crowded avenue

I'd love to catch glimpse

Of the secret side of you too.

Sometimes it makes me want to yell

It's full of nothing I can sell

The separate world in which I dwell

This single thing I do so well.

And if nobody else can tell

And if it's nothing I can sell

It's still the world in which I dwell

The single thing I do so well.