Flying over the counter, broken glasses on the floor
The smell of fear and two toned hair, and a smoke trail out the door
Counting back from a hundred, and they moved the show outside
Back and forth and front to back, to seek the ones that hide
They don't want to be found!
They're running from Cruela Deville
They don't know she is the Mob, she runs this town
She's all evil and she's dying to kill
You don't know
Sergeant Tibbs can you hear us? Hear the howling on the wind?
Everybody's nervous here and anxious to begin
There's a spark at the curtains, taking our last place to hide
Tell all the kids on the playground to get on their bikes and ride and ride and ride!
