I have a friend and he’s quite strange
Sometimes I think he’s quite deranged
And although a loon he seems to be
I cannot help but like him,

for some reason he likes hanging out,
underneath the sofa at his house,
it's uncomfortable under there for me,
and yet i always join him,

he listens to things I cannot hear,
Though I see the dust bunnies crawling near,
He seems to think that up is down,
And TV tells no lies,

and the goldfish in his bowl does sing,
a pretty song off the glass it rings,
and the cat plays to the melody’s tune,
on a grand piano,

and under the sofa where we lay,
chatting about the rainy day,
I find myself a wondering,
How I came to be here,

And then I listen see it now,
Though I really do not get quite how,
But I need him and he needs me so forever happy we shall be,
Underneath his couch,