Through The Ceiling

I take my head out of the sand
And let my best friend take my hand
He led me on, he said he cared
But only fools are full of that
I'm a fisherman, way through
I shouldn't say it, but it's all that I can do
To keep my face as straight as this
I haven't got a clue, what can I do?

I shape asleep, form useless clefts
And wait for something new to begin
Could something shape me from this sleep?
Will something build me up to breathe
My air, my nerve
I shouldn't say it, but it's less than I deserve
But I wouldn't give it up like this
I haven't got a clue, what can I do?

Through the ceiling on the floor
I don't want to anymore
What can I do?