The girl of my dreams is slim and tall She looks like as if Wednesday Adam's doll
She doesn't talk, or see, or hear And she exudes a cold, damp fear
Her eyes are two holes as empty as they could be Blood and soot runs down and so she couldn't see
Her ears turned deaf a long time ago They too bleed some dry blood, so-
Mouth hers hangs all long in dread Tongue ripped out and she looks quite dead
I wonder if I have ever met her over tea, Or is she just a likeness of me?