The man with no insides, the man with no insidesnThe man with no insides, the man with no insidesnnOpen this Pandora's boxnCrossed fequencies pass throughnEmbark on someone else's trainnPop goes the king weaselnnSo let the chant begin – ensuenMaster the dance of the dead – vitalnSing lullabies of times gone bynCome children emanate himnnImmerse the pawnnInto the salve of delightnEntwined within the carnival of soarsnPop goes the king weasel