VERSE
While you're asleep, he grows feet made of microsuede and becomes straight-backed. Powered, by nanotechnology. He leaves no hints of fingerprints or creaked steps as he makes an exit, destined, to stop a robbery.

There's a girl, in the corner, taking orders from a forward man, the target of his aim. And ohhh, the throw's a lightweight. He sneaks in sideways, wraps himself 'round the man's gun and then his face.

CHORUS
Who has altruistic goals, a bleached back and unpatched holes, and far more Goodwill than he has home?
Who keeps the villains grumbling, and you with blanket coverage from foes? It's SAVING THROW!

VERSE
Silence, now passed out, outlaw's restrained. The throw is drained and continues on his route. To the 24/7 course of cleaning where he gets his dreaming when he's not passed out on the couch.

Eyes closed, he envisions brooding. Moths are colluding to do damage to the fabric on the rack. And ohhh, the throw's a dancer. Thrusts his belly faster, blowing them away and laying down the smack!

(CHORUS)