Late Last Night Or The Night Before
There Was A Man Standing At My Door
I Didn’t Know Who He Was Or What He Was Doing
For His Breathing Was As Harsh As A Possessed Baby’s Cooing

I Noticed He Had An Axe In Hand
And Walked Like A Broken Rubber Band
I Was Scared, Who Wouldn’t Be
Filled With Panic, I Couldn’t See

There Was A Man Of About Eighty-Four
His Wings Of Glory Torn Off Long Before
Hunkering Over Getting His Mail
Here Is A Quick Fantasy Of Mine, For Which I Would Have Surely Gone To Jail

I Sped Up In My Pick-Up Truck
I Would Run Over Him If I Had Any Luck
My Eyes Closed And Bump
I Hit A Huge Lump