If you think too slow
To talk you'll forget
But the hurrier you g-g-g-g-go
The behinder you get
If you tweedle your thumbs
You'll lose the hare
When you don't know where you're going
You know that any road will take you there
I'm afraid I can't explain myself
We're all mad here
And as I tr-tr-try to p-p-paint the roses red
I lost the hare now I lose my head