"When you turn out all the lights
When you lock up for the night
We come out to play"

They're lurking in the corners on the ceilings and the walls
They're jumping on the guest bed and they're running in the halls
They watch you type your password, they know where you keep your keys
And they're turning up your thermostat by one or two degrees

They're playing Spider Solitaire and reading all your files
They're logging on your blogging sites to change your default styles
They're typing editorials with libertarian slants
And they're turning on your Xbox to play Rock Band with the ants

"You know we've got a lot to do
So if you'd just put down that shoe
We'll be on our way."

They're looking into real estate (it's all about location)
They used to lift your free weights 'til that slight miscalculation
They're barbecuing tiny little steaks on your Hibachi
And drafting solemn essays in salute to Fibonacci

They raid your liquor cabinet, though they're not of age to drink
They're staging tango competitions in the kitchen sink
They're critiquing your new painting (your perspective's off, they say)
And they're analyzing your décor for optimal feng shui
"You know we're really not bad guys
Remember Egypt and the flies?
We're just saying."

They're going through your songbooks and composing extra verses
They're making use of Babelfish to translate Russian curses
They're borrowing your favorite socks (they're sure you wouldn't mind)
And they're working on your steering since your wheels got misaligned

They're singing German arias (their pitch is wunderbar)
They're studying philosophy (they think, therefore they are)
They're reading your old math books, learning vector and diameter
And writing epic poetry in iambic octameter

"Hey we're just trying to get along
If we had pants, we'd put them on
One leg at a time, at a time, at a time, at a time, at a time"