Would someone shoot down that Phoenix for me?
Drug the Unicorn and dump her in the sea.
Catch some fairies and staple their wings
To various large and heavy things.
Steal an airforce fighter jet,
Then, missiles primed and rockets set,
Head for Lappland at mach 3
And take out Santa Claus for me.
I'm sure my trusty cricket bat
Will break the smile of Cheshire Cat.
And we can snare a lively stoat
To ram right down the Banshee's throat.

But when we've caused the deaths
Of all the things we can't explain,
Still will lurk the Hidebehind
-This creature can't be slain.
Try to see him in the mirror
He'll hide behind the frame
But we'll feel him there behind us
(That's how he got his name).
So even after fantasy is gone
And myth is dead,
There'll still be creatures crouching
In the corners of your head.