Brush away that black cloud from your shoulder.
Twitch your whiskers. Feel that you're really real.
Another tea-time, another day older.
Puff warm breath on your tiny hands.
You wish you were a man
who every day can turn another page.
Behind your glass you sit and look
at my ever-open book
One Brown Mouse sitting in a cage.
Do you wonder if I really care for you
Am I just the company you keep
Which one of us exercises on the old treadmill
Who hides his head, pretending to sleep?
Smile your little smile, take some tea with me awhile.And every day we'll turn
another page.
Behind our glass we'll sit and look
at our ever-open book
One Brown Mouse sitting in a cage
