paroles de chanson Don't Tattle on Me (Instrumental) - The Living Tombstone , Caleb Hyles , Fandroid!

I can't sleep, leap out of bed;
Creep down the hall, sneak down steps
Into the creepy, creaky basement,
And discreetly peek at my gifts.
Open up, what could it be?
That motormouth; those rosy cheeks!
A baby talking Tattletail,
Who babbles without fail:
Don't tattle on me!
Don't tattle on me!
'Cause Mama's sleeping,
And Mama's scary!
No, don't you speak!
Or I might scream!
'Cause if she finds you,
Who knows what she'll do?
Hide and seek under the tree;
Red glowing eyes are all I see.
Maternal stalker by the stockings;
Matricidal children stalking.
Charge you, brush you, feed you treats;
Hey, who's the toy here, you or me?
Infernal presence in the presents:
Unsettled machine.
Don't tattle on me!
Don't tattle on me!
'Cause Mama's listening,
And Mama's scary!
No, don't you speak!
Or I might scream!
'Cause if she finds you,
Who knows what she'll do?
Instrumental
Wound up - like a VHS
Shook up - and I'm in distress
Locked up - in a cardboard box
Broke up - like a shattered pot
Wake up - from a bad, bad dream
Strung up - like a Christmas tree
Messed up - so she got recalled
Shut up...
And don't tattle on me!
Don't tattle on me!
'Cause Mama's watching,
And Mama's scary!
Don't make a peep,
Or I might scream!
'Cause if she finds you,
You know what she'll do;
So don't tattle on me!