Who are they, those unwelcome guests
Sneaking past the censor
At the whiff of a party and too much rum
Or the hint of a spliff, then they come
Who are they, those crooks those vagabonds
Loitering with bad intent
In the secret palaces
Deep passages of my heart
Waiting by the portal gates
To sneak out and have fun
These undead, surly phantoms
Along for the ride until Bam
Centre stage they just erupt,
Racing along without their leads
In the stolen moments they’re free
I’ve never even met them
Only heard of their deeds by default
The list of their crimes is enormous
It’s a pity they seem to be me