The man with papercuts who lives nearby Won't remember what you said The tales of joy you probably meant to tell To him, would just easily fly by Born to a crystal clear nice family His whole life honest, at least he tried His office may seem like a boredom to us But it's his sweet dear lullabye Something's better when you think it is Something's nicer when your mind's king has cast off his guards Listen, listen, they come whispering Listen, listen, listen hard