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