Regina Spektor

[Intro]
The man of a thousand faces
Sits down at the table
Eats a small lump of sugar
And smiles at the moon like he knows her
[Verse 1]
He begins his quiet ascension
Without anyone's steady instruction
To a place with no religion
He's found a path to her likeness
[Verse 2]
His words are quiet like stains are
On a tablecloth washed in a river
Stains that are trying to cover
For each other
Or at least blend in with the pattern
[Verse 3]
Good is better than perfect
Scrub till your fingers are bleeding