Mr. O, growing his beard, and becoming Q.
At the three-forked road, you choose the right, backward I walk. Or, at the three-forked road, you choose the right, backward your lacquey walks.
Being frozen, in the corrider, an imp crying.
Under the disease have spread, with a Thaddeus for me, it ends well.
To shrink myself, like a feeling, smaller to smaller I'll be.