Ah,
ah,
ah
Ah, ah,
ah
And it looks improved,
the company's still the same
And letters from postmen start some other person's name
Magazines, the end of me will show you
What I've wrote, like I just might have to
grow to And I'm thinking clear
Because you're not here,
your funeral's marched,
my dear
Miss Visiting Ails are sincere,
but auctions off her tears
I was caught and took down to the chamber
Where everybody said that you'd be safer
Where the black widow crawls,
capturing the common fools
The game's you,
her own rules
And promises she still claims
Mistaken words for the tools
