You're prowling down that cobbled street
Those whiskers looking neat, You're an observer's feast
Igniting fantasies in the head, Remnants on my bed
The scratch you sliced - bloodshed
Some black magic took control, now you're out the door
Pitter pattering in a dream
You stole that midnight scene
No windowsill can be the hammock
Uphold that magic given to Merlin by his manics, because
Your feet may tread away, your lungs enflame
York Street omnipresent domain
But even wizards strive to get some downtime too
And yet it's only I you see, That spell bestowed on me, Stranded haphazardly
Your claws writhing restlessly, Your body on the floor, Flailing unnaturally
That black magic's taken its toll, Bang! You're out the door
Pitter pattering in a dream, Controlling that midnight scene
No windowsill can be the hammock
Uphold that magic given to Merlin by his manics, because
Your feet may tread away, your lungs enflame
York Street omnipresent domain
But even wizards strive to get some downtime too
That fluffy hair was trailing everywhere
On the contrary, ice cold glare
Those beady eyes - potions in mid-flare
Grey silky gown is seducing all of your neighbours
Life's progressively easy, pussy on the prowl
If only that possessor could see you now
No windowsill can be the hammock
Uphold that magic given to Merlin by his manics, because
Your feet may tread away, your lungs enflame
York Street omnipresent domain
But even wizards strive to get some downtime too
General patrol of the area
You're on parole and much scarier
I could patrol your area
Some scaffolding to support your gift
Be weary of that golden snitch
No windowsill can be the hammock
Uphold that magic given to Merlin by his manics, because
Your feet may tread away, your lungs enflame
York Street omnipresent domain
But even wizards strive to get some downtime too