Saw a face in a conical of lace, it was a strange orchestra Mannequin 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
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