| Captured by Hitler with Oliver Twist in the tower
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| Guards say here’s pens and paper just sit down and work for an hour
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| O, Goodness, how can we escape? |
| but it’s not worthwhile
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| All I can do is smile
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| Down gallons of glandular corridors of the dark castle
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| The pompous old bellman is tolling one bell
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| At bathtime the hippies in chains they are crossing the hall
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| Where Hitler is making his new film about it all
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| We slip trough a pew and escape but I just don’t know
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| All I can do is grow
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| Tell me more, what then?
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| Down Main Street I go on a duffel-coat hoping instead
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| For a little room, yawn, I’m so tired with this big bag of coal on my head
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| It’s a top hat I’m trying to sell or a lesson to learn
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| Vaguely seeking some fire to burn
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| While a whole group of middle-aged persons with dwarfish expressions and tinned
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| conversations in Sunday blessed blue
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| Standing around for a photograph, watch the cuckoo
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| Do you need any coal? |
| But it doesn’t appear that they do
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| Then I offered my throat to the wolf but I just can’t die
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| All I can do is fly
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| Tell me more, what then?
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| Safe and secure in the skirts of the midsummer wood
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| Cooking soup with stale words and fresh meanings, it tastes so good
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| The green wolf with his bunch of red roses is slinking away
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| All on a summer’s day |