The picture freeze on the city,
A plot of pain and jealousy.
A puppet cries, melancholy,
Of living hell: reality.

As the puppet dances, the killer sees
The strings that keeps his sanity
The villain waves a lethal blows,
It’s witching hour, time for the show.

Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Well here comes Eugene,
Walking down the alley,
With booze as blood
And his coming death as trendy;

He feels the whole story’s
Been dumped on him,
All torn and shred,
A vicious black comedy;

And I feel sorry,
The guy had dreams you see.
It’s come to this:
Poor old Eugene is you or me.