The Cruel One - Children 18:3

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!

Oh, lest she find you

Oh, she is right behind you

Help me disappear!