200 Frank Sinatras

So Jay, here lives next-door

He’s up all night in the garden

Making noise

And talking

He chopped off half his finger

I ponder and I linger

He’s cutting up that plant

So really bad

With two hundred Frank Sinatras

Who couldn’t make me a non-starter

In the race to the bottom of your heart

And I know you see right through me

And it nearly killed me

You can bet your life on it

Paul’s bin don’t go out anymore

The filter’s on

But yeh, nah, he is gone

And his daughter came around

With a four month baby boy

To let us know, to let us know

She’s already gone

With such a stylish au pair

Falling halfway up the stairs

Well it’s okay, you’ll feel fine in the morning

But at night they’re still tearing up the road

You can bet your life on this