Mad As A Hatter
I pull my hat low upon my brow
My hands trembling, convulsing now
I wipe the drool from off my chin
And try to walk upright again
I stumble, screaming out a horrific sound
I have fallen once more to the ground
I cannot stop the shrieking
How many biscuits are there today?
A COPPER A WATCHMAN!
No, no n-n-n-n-no sir, I-I-I-I
Hattah Hattah Hattah Haigha
STOP IT!
It comes from within yet I know not where
I crawl now with frightful despair
I only wish to return home
Saved from the tempers which are my own
And here they come their coat of white
I have no voice to tell my plight
And yet I laugh and mumble so
Ten o-o-o-o-over six NO!
Where did everybody g-g-go?
Mommy never loved me
I want to lay in a flowerpot
OH! the butcher is raining
Now, amid my padded walls
And curdling screams of darkened halls
And arms tied tight around my side
The laughter I cannot subside
The price you pay, or so it seems
For the finest hat in all Bedleem














Comments
--
I'm a little tea pot, short and- . . . What? Song makes no sense. To be clear, I am not a ceramic (or metal) bowl with a spout.
--
and her laugh always sounds like the clatter of shaken dice,
of the rotation of roulettes and a life on the line.
"Please stay mad, and keep up the good work"
Respect
--
Voices and Nightmares
--
so pregnant with meaning i am lactating not really
--
"Oh, sorry, I can't talk to you any longer. I have to go before I start swelling up. Y'see, I'm allergic to complete fail." - Anna Carlsson
I approve of this.
--
~love always~
~malacup14~