There seems to be a monster
He lives beneath the bed
I'm told he is an aweful guy
And not just in my head
We haven't seen him in a while
I'd forgotten he was there
Until the night we let the light
Get dimmer than we dare
Beneath the bed, that is his home
Like a garden to a knomb
He isn't going to eat the shoes
He isn't going to watch the news
So what's his name, what's his game
And what's he want from me?
Nothing, not a single thing,
But keep us from feeling free.
