Sometimes the song comes late at night,
A lazy time surrounded by
The light, when paper's never there
Except an envelope or three
Collecting dust and penalties,
In need of stamps, in need of checks
And when eventually I send,
With interest principally enclosed,
These notes to Citibank I know
They won't be read, the warning says
Do not enclose, and yet I think
This can't be correspondence, no?