There's a bleeder in my kitchen
And he's pouring on my floor
There's a killer in my hallway
And he's scratching at my door
I think I might have heard some screaming
I might have heard somebody cry
Now I wonder am I dreaming
Or is my mind telling me a lie
Well I can't run any further
And I can't hide anymore
And I think there's been a murder
Up on the ground floor
There's a boa in my bathroom
And he's coiling in my sink
He wants my cats I think
Paranoia in my house now and I'm balanced on the brink
Well I can't run any further
And I can't hide anymore
And I think there's been a murder
Up on the ground floor
I'm living in a basement flat in a quiet part of town
I bet you wonder where my head is at when I'm imagining all these sounds
I'd check it out but I'm glued to my chair
I can't make it to the door
I could be bugging but i'd gladly swear
I just heard a body hit the floor
And I can't run any further
I can't hide, I can't hide anymore
And I think there's been a murder up above me on the ground
On the ground floorA Most Peculiar Man (P. Simon, 1965)
He was a most peculiar man.
That's what Mrs. Riordan said and she should know;
She lived upstairs from him
She said he was a most peculiar man.
He was a most peculiar man.
He lived all alone within a house,
Within a room, within himself,
A most peculiar man.
He had no friends, he seldom spoke
And no one in turn ever spoke to him,
'Cause he wasn't friendly and he didn't care
And he wasn't like them.
Oh, no! he was a most peculiar man.
He died last Saturday.
He turned on the gas and he went to sleep
With the windows closed so he'd never wake up
To his silent world and his tiny room;
And Mrs. Riordan says he has a brother somewhere
Who should be notified soon.
And all the people said, "What a shame that he's dead,
But wasn't he a most peculiar man?"