The window's cracked a bit
some cat had given out a lonely mewl
                   and I decided to hear his
                        swan-song

                      I figure he's probably just teary-eyed
                                            bout some girl
                                                        stood him up.

                                  We're both creatures of the night,
                                        things dracula turns into
                                                        when he gets tired of people
                                            calling him a monster
                                                                                 which I suppose he is, really.

                                 There's an owl in the spruce tree across the street.
                                         I can hear him belt the blues
                                                      if I quit fidgeting long enough
                                                 I wonder if they're listening to me too
                                                             while I click-clack
                                                                       out the window

                       trying to find some rhythm in the madness

                sing on, boys.
                            I'll be the percussionist
                            and you can riff all you want
                                  nevermind the errors,
                                        we'll just tell the naysayers
                                                   that jazz
                                             isn't supposed to have rules.