The troubles with Harry's Lyrics

Midnight, you said, what's midnight to the young?

A festive blaze was flung across five cedar trunks

And a patrol car showed on the road

Maybe she lost her way, trying to cross the lake

Where winter skaters glide from X to Y

But we know, she took her poor young life

My year is an army of twelve monkeys, fed with sixty slices of Harry's

No more can I swallow them and still March with no pain

I think, she said, I'll get off here and walk ahead

She peered at ghostly trees grateful to hear the brakes

Bus stopped, bus disappeared

The troubles with Harry's they're multiplying and threaten Ambers of a toaster attack

No more can I simply wait for March to vacuum them

My year is an army of twelve monkeys, fed with sixty slices of Harry's

No more can I swallow them and still March with no pain

Bus stopped, bus disappeared

Marchary? That sounds Mexican