Philip Seymour Hoffman Songtext
von Richard Walters

I am breathing the cold air that′s left
And my cheek is pressed against the floor
That is old and dirty evermore
As my spirit or whatever starts to flail
And the angels in their lab coats stare
As my thoughts disperse and turn to air
And I'm somewhere up above the scene

Who′s going to play me now?
Who's going to play me now?
Oh no


I can see you in the Village below
Now I'm somewhere up beside the sun
Where my heart and mind have turned to one
And I′m thinking of a hotel before
Where the blinds are down against the moon
That is drawing lines across the room
And I′m somewhere in-between it all

Who's going to play me now?
Who′s going to play me now?
Oh no
Who's going to play me now?
Oh no

Now I′m staring at a postcard on the floor
That has found a home behind my desk
With the books of words and lines of text
That I spent a lifetime learning
Yet, there is nothing left