There's no beast,
Obviously
The floor just creaks,
Obviously
The morning with coffee was snowy and sweet,
And there was this small, snow-white dog
That was barking at our feet,
Honestly

Drove all day to the vacant beach
Grey mist hanging over the sea,
Alleys clogged with magazines,
And the boardwalk is empty
The house in the valley is open this week,
Imagine the sea looking in
At the slowly moving sheets
Honestly

If you feel weak, leave it to me
If you need sleep, leave it to me
Need wool socks for your feet, leave it to me
Need a walk on the beach, leave it to me
An ear into which to weep, leave it to me
A shoulder on which to sleep, leave it to me

And leave it to me to not speak
When I pass you on the street
Leave it to me to feel weak,
Leave it to me to run from your feet
Leave it to me to not speak
When I pass you on the street,
Leave it to me to feel weak,
Leave it to me, number thirty-three,
Leave it to me