He escaped from the zoo, hatchet in hand,
to sow seeds of desire throughout the land.
Oh, he grinned a wicked, feverish grin
and called on the secrets resting within.

He spoke with a sigh, and laughed with a wink,
while making lazy riddles in the bathroom sink.
He built a house of mirrors out on the front lawn,
to hide his sulking head from the beautiful dawn.

He keeps it all a-running with some oil and grease,
never stopping for a moment to find some peace.
He just spends all his time with lies and deceit,
and keeps all his pleasures stuck on repeat.

This can't be right; I can see through his plight,
as he hides from the light, just out of sight.

This can't be true! Has he gotten to you?
Bah, I can't even see! Has he gotten to me?