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 intellect      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 man   Oh, I dream of something like that