The man with papercuts who lives nearby
Won’t remember what you said
The tales of joy you probably meant to tell
To him, would just easily fly by
Born to a crystal clear nice family
His whole life honest, at least he tried
His office may seem like a boredom to us
But it’s his sweet dear lullabye
Something’s better when you think it is
Something’s nicer when your mind’s king has cast off his guards
Listen, listen, they come whispering
Listen, listen, listen hard.