Saw a face in a conical of lace, it was a strange
orchestra
Mannikin skin pounding on a bass-drum, strange orchestra
Lilliputian, evil in the eyes of the man with the leaf
harp
He lusts for the urchin hiding under mountains of
moleskin
A big cat like t-tyrannosaurus going to Lilliput
The ensemble make a tiny rumble, the celloist solos
The sky blackens and the bass string slackens and they
stand statuesquely
Then they giggle and they wiggle through the door in the
big dark oak tree
