The man in stripes and gla**es...
The man in stripes and gla**es...
The man in stripes and gla**es shouted,
"Where am I?"
before a giant cartoon magnifying gla** invaded from the sky and made a red and white bespectacled skeleton out of the poor guy.
Well, we never got his name.
Or a very good look.
We collected his remains in a box of books.
Well, we took the books out first,
arranged them best to worst,
just as a waste of time.
And then we put the bones in alphabetically,
sealed it up hermetically,
and never ever spoke of it again.
But every single night,
we see a red and white bespectacled skeleton
in the corner of our eye.
The man in stripes and gla**es
is dead.
Dead.
DEAD.
(Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.)
Forever.