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(brooker / reid)

My amazon six-triggered bride
Now searching for a place to hide
Still sees the truth quite easily
But shrouds all else in mystery
While madmen in top hats and tails
Impale themselves on six-inch nails
And some arabian also-ran
Impersonates a watering can

Some santa claus-like face of note
Entreats my ears to set afloat
My feeble sick and weary brain
And i am overcome with shame
And hide inside my overcoat
And hurriedly begin to quote
While some arabian sheikh most grand
Impersonates a hot-dog stand

The red cross ambulance outside
Can only mean that i must hide
'til dusk and finally the night
When i will make a hasty flight
Across the sea and far away
To where the weary exiles stay
And some arabian oil-well
Impersonates a padded cell