Dead Lion, you're asleep on the carpet again.
In a daze you wake up, yawn loudly and then
You get up, walk around, lost in your mental lair
And you look like a zombie with your sticking-up hair.
Don't let your mind drift to some faraway land.
I must ask you some questions, I must understand
How you can pretend to be watching TV,
How your eyes look around but you choose not to see.