The crooked tooth was just a tooth
Which sat like a worn-down moth
It dreamed for a free-hug booth
Though it never managed to go on forth

The crooked tooth was just a tooth
Which waited like a crippled witch
And always wished for its tiptoe path
While it knew that was just myth

The crooked tooth was just a tooth
Yet it kept a daydream to breathe
And to have a sparkle bath
Drenched between life and death

The crooked tooth was just a tooth, though
Which cared only about its growth
And shall only be a single tooth
Which then stood still at the end of birth

The crooked tooth was just a tooth
And it stood alone among the row
Of skull preserved by merciful death
Unaware of the dreams it had dreamed

But,
Ah,
Yes,
Never mind that.

For the crooked tooth
Was just a tooth
A worn-down moth
A selfish tooth.