I Put My Trenchcoat On

Woke up one morning,
Down on my luck,
Whisky my only friend,
And I hadn’t got a dime.
Fate had me in her sights,
And I was a sitting duck.
That was when I found
The portal through time.

If you can believe it
In the blink of an eye
The world went strange.
It’s hard to understand.
I can’t accept that sixty
Years have gone by.
It’s as if I’m travelling
In a foreign land.

But since I am stuck here,
I may as well try
To fit in,
So I’ve set up a room,
Advertised my services
As a P.I.
I don’t know why the office
Is still empty as a tomb.

I put my trenchcoat on,
Slip a mickey in my pocket,
Straighten my fedora,
Go out into the night.
I wish that somebody
Would tell me what an iPhone
Is. It doesn’t matter.
I’ll be all right
With my trenchcoat on.

I am a gumshoe;
It’s all that I know,
Beating the grimy streets
For clue after clue,
Drunk on despair,
Knowing there are no
Easy answers in anything
I do.

I’m fine with forensics,
But you gotta see
There’s a line.
What’s the deal with DNA?
All of this procedure
Is stifling me.
I wanna shoot a crook; that’s
Just the better way.

I put my trenchcoat on,
Slip a mickey in my pocket,
Straighten my fedora,
Go out into the night.
I wish that somebody
Would tell me what an iPhone
Is. It doesn’t matter.
I’ll be all right
With my trenchcoat on.

Just yesterday night, I tried to get back in the game:
Went out to a boozy joint to score me a dame.
I still don’t know
What “sexual harrassment” might mean.
If my cases can’t come from some woman named “Trouble,”
Then where will I get them? And where is the rubble?
The city’s disturbingly bright and way too clean.

I sit in my office,
Watch the light leak
Through the half-closed blinds;
There’s nowhere I can go.
I don’t know how to cope,
And it’s only been a week.
No one in this time needs
The things that I know.

I guess it’s ironic,
‘Cause not fitting in
Is my thing,
And now I’m even more outside,
Watching from the margins,
Drowning in gin.
My cynicism’s rising
On an alcoholic tide.

I put my trenchcoat on,
Slip a mickey in my pocket,
Straighten my fedora,
Go out into the night.
I wish that somebody
Would tell me what an iPhone
Is. It doesn’t matter.
I’ll be all right
With my trenchcoat on.

I put my trenchcoat on,
Slip a mickey in my pocket,
Straighten my fedora,
Go out into the night.
I wish that somebody
Would tell me what an iPhone
Is. It doesn’t matter.
I’ll be all right
With my trenchcoat on.