Sherlock sleep tight.
Give Mr. Candyman a bundle of bees
with a sharp hook for the right.
You srtut and you talk
down this road full of pebbles,
aligned in weeds.
Be all alone, alone, alone.
Sherlock sleep tight.
Give Mr. Hannibal a locked jaw,
sowed so tight.
No eating, not here, not tonight.
Pick up that mummuring phone.
Sherlock sleep tight.
Give Sir. Manson no followers to lead.
He will go crazy with no
crowd to please.
You strut and you talk down
this road full of perky pebbles
aligned in willowing weeds.
Sherlock sleep so tightly tonight
with Mr. Candyman, Hannibal, and Sir Manson tonight.
