Why are you hiding beneath the staircase?
Are you a thief come to rob me
or just a joker out to give me a little scare?
I see you better now but wish I didnít.
Youíre taller than I thought but your clothes
give you away, black as sin, outdated Ė
No. No. I mean they are becoming to you,
in an old-world way, like Bosch or Brueghel.
I think I expected more of a Johnny Cash look.
Pardon me but I donít think Iím ready to go.
Come on into my living room
and letís talk this over like two adults.
Thank you. Now sit back in the La-Z-Boy
and rest your weary bones.
Can I give you some advice?
Good! You know, you look like Hell, empty sockets
and bony hands, enough to scare the dead.
If I were your PR guy I think
I would recommend a complete makeover with
blonde hair and flesh face, a full-figured female
look. Ditch the cape and the hooded cowl.
People would line up to follow you,
to join the ďBlack AngelĒ brigade;
your current image is appalling.
I feel you are ignoring me completely.
Why donít you put your scythe back in the violin
case. Let me pour you a bloody mary.
Oh! Is that your hearse parked outside my door?
Look! The cop is ticketing you for an expired tag.
Why donít you take care of things while
I slip out the back door wearing a false moustache,
a painted face, very big shoes
and my clown suit so as to be totally