I turn around as I’m walkin’

I see that he’s not there

I look again like I’m stalkin’

this time I see him there

I fix my eyes on my stalker

there’s somethin’ I don’t get

the scene I see is not proper

it’s not one Bosch would set

I hide around the rst corner

his face shows no expression

he follows me like a mourner

follows a procession

I fix my eyes on my stalker

there’s somethin’ I don’t get

the scene I see is not proper

it’s not one Bosch would set

A party of decent people

I’m with by god’s decree

an orgy of sober cripples

this shit is not for me

I fix my eyes on my stalker

there’s somethin’ I don’t get

the scene I see is not proper

it’s not one Bosch would set

The details won’t be disclosed

they do look rather faint

the movement, the gestures, the pose

Bruegel would never paint... yeah...

A chance for a spicy evening

arises like the sun

what if he caused booze to spring

and finished this dry run

I fix my eyes on my stalker

there’s somethin’ I don’t get

the scene I see is not proper

it’s not one Bosch would set.^[1]