I have a little house 
Close to town, but not to the city 
Far from home, but near my family 
No water views, but so close to the sea 
I see 
This is how my little life could be… 

And I’m filling it with things 
Like furniture I find on the street 
And all the special things I’d like to eat 
Pictures of people that I’d like to meet 
I’ll meet them when I’m orbiting the world… 

… And it’s so pretty… 
… And so lonely… 

My lovely love affairs 
Are all scheduled ‘round the TV guide 
And my  life has all been plagiarised 
In an attempt to meet a harsh deadline… 

I’d like to rent-a-wife 
Then rent a husband to keep her for life 
The three of us, we could be so happy 
(Them with each other, me [bad word]  
I’ll see them off on a flight around the world… 

… And it’s so pretty… 
… And so lonely… 

… And at my funeral 
they will say ‘Tom, he was such a nice guy’ 
‘He went too early, but he went in style’ 
‘They’ll play my music and then they will cry’ 

They’ll have a little wake 
They’ll drink bad wine and they’ll eat lemon cake 
And my mother’s little heart will break 
And she’ll say: 
‘Wait! There must be some mistake 
- he can’t be dead 
Take me instead!!!’ 

Oh but I’m not dead 
They tell me I’m not dead 
They say that I’m not dead 
And I won’t die for some time… 

I’m in my little house 
Just writing little songs to pass the time 
Which (incidentally) is precisely nine 
So don’t you worry, [bad word] fine 
I’m fine 
I am just so [bad word] fine