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