Go to bed. The priests are dead. Now no one. Can call you bad. Go to bed. The priests are dead. Finally you're pepperminted land. He's a merman. He doesn't need your voice. He's a merman. Go to bed. Dream instead. And you will find him. He's a merman. To the knee. Doesn't need something you're not willing to give. He's a merman. Doesn't need your voice to cross his land of ice. Go to bed. The priests are dead. Now no one. Can call you bad. Go to bed. The priests are dead. Finally you found him. Let it out. Who could ever say you're not simply wonderful. Who could ever harm you. Sleep now. You're my little goat. Go to bed. The priests are dead. And come sing it all again. Go to bed. Past the apple orchard. And you'll feel nice. Two can play. I said two can play