Lyrics:

There's no fire
There's a charming face on his sister
A darling face on his sister
And a dour face on his sister
And a bratty face on his sister, I wish I could
Can't handle her at all

Give me your lens cap, please
There's a chief investigator standing middle of the street
Where his aunt was slashed last night once they running from market to the hydrant
And he can't do his job properly
'Cause she gave him the favorite presents every holiday
And he dearly misses her
So they call, so they call
(Run)
(Run me down)
So they call a private investigator with a long nose and a large pipe who know problem
Picks up the assailant leaning on a large leg in the valley six miles away
You know what he said?
'He did the crime, but I'm doing the time, Chief investigator!'

This is a song about lonely Edward Franklin Ames
Out of a job, confused
Steadies himself, he's a tinkerer, has his two children shovel their small plates under the chin, panicked
Scraps of change and talent man
The one case separated him from a decent stress-filled life
And they're keeping it somewhere
In a small museum outside of Copenhagen
Looks off into the ocean

Respect to the Vikings, and the Caucasian warriors

I lost, is lost