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