When his feet pitter patter
And voice in chains go chitter chatter
I sadly turn against the hatter
And mourn the state of this sorry matter
We have all the cups and all the tea
Surround locks on bars but possess no key
The only chance to set us free
Is to fraternise with the enemy
Hearts in the walls but the keepers own none
No pleas of sanity will lower their gun
The bullets are needles to drop a ton
This type of wonderland isn’t so fun!