Past the temple see the monks, Tending the gardens in their orange robes,  Flowing, In waning evening light as I am walking home, With the weight of grocery bags, Up goes the moon, With a small bowl of ripple chips and a scotch and soda, I try to calm myself.

The gentle flicker of an overpriced candle, I look in the mirror, Ooh. I think of what I could make for supper, Another thing if not me, then who? Who, Who. Checking the weather report, And laying out my clothes for work, The house lit like a pumpkin, The news is on but I am not, Hearing a dang thing, Lost in thought, Halloween or beavers dam building, Ooh, Will this go on for long? Swapping out what’s in this song, Not minding right or wrong or who, Who, Who.