There's no fire
A charming face on his sister
A darling face on his sister
And a dour face on his sister
A bratty face on his sister
I wish I could
But I can't handle her at all
Give me your lens-cap please
There's a chief investigator standing in the middle of the street
Where his aunt was slashed last night
once they running from market to the hydrant
And he can't do his job properly
Cause she gave him the favorite presents every holiday
And he dearly misses her
So they call
So they call
Run, run me down
So they called a private investigator with a long nose and a large pipe with no problem
Picks up the assailant leaning on a large leg in a valley sixty miles away
You know what he said?
He did the crime, but I'm doing the time, chief investigator!
This is a song about lonely Edward Franklin Aims
Out of a job
Steadies himself as a tinker
Has his two children shoveling small plates under the chin
Amateurs, scraps of change and tenement men
And one case separated him from the decent and stress filled life
They're keeping it somewhere in a small museum outside of Copenhagen
He looks off into the ocean
Respect to the Vikings
And the Caucasian warriors
I lost, it's lost