My name is Mr. Touchshriek 

Of Touchshriek with mail over and fantasy

My shop sells egg shells off the shesores and

empty females 



I'm thinking of leasing the room above my shop 

To a Mr. Walloff Domburg

A reject from the world wide Internet 



He's a broken man 

I'm also a broken man



It would be nice to have company

We could have great conversations 

Looking through windows for demons

And watching the young advance in all electric



Some of the houses around here 

still have inhabitants in them

I'm not sure if they're from this country or not

I don't get to speak much to anyone 

or that sort of thing

If I had another broken name

Oh, I dream of something like that