Hippos don't wear hats, lobsters shriek if provoked
On long blue ribbons
That he may see while he sleeps
Monsieur Old Neddy, he wears spectacles in bed
That he may see dreams more clearly
The night, it will be black, and white raven croaking
I am thirsty, die, they won't let it be
They think it should be done with reality
I scream from a skull. Fritz, bring your wigwam
They won't let it be
They think it should be done with reality, with reality
They won't let it be
They think it should be done with reality, with reality
