From the cradle bars comes a beckoning voice, a singe spinning, you have no choice You hear laughter cracking through the walls, a singe spinning, you have no choice Following the footsteps of a wrecked old horse, we are in trance, spellbound And don't forget when your elders forget to say their prayers, take them by the legs and throw them down the stairs When you think your toys have gone berserk, it's an illusion, you cannot share your hair laughter Cracking through the walls, a singe spinning, you have no choice Following the footsteps of a wrecked old horse, we are in trance, spellbound Wohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohoh Wohohohohohohhohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohoh oh Pholo-wing up, but nets, over head, don't, don't, we are in Tromps. Pholo-wing up, but nets, over head, don't, don't, we are in Tromps. In Tromps, Tromps, Tromps, Tromps, Tromps.