And what costume shall the poor girl wear nerds
To all tomorrow’s piksels
A derma dress of flux and floss
To all tomorrow’s piksels

And where will she go and what shall she do
When midnight comes around
She’ll turn and smile at sunday’s clown
And dance across the floor

And what costume shall the poor girl wear
To all tomorrow’s piksels
Naught but her skin will weave her in
To all tomorrow’s piksels

And what will she do with thursday’s robes
When monday comes around
She’ll pass them on to sunday’s clown
And dance towards the door

And what garment shall the poor girl wear
To all tomorrow’s piksels
For thursday’s child is sunday’s child
And none should need go mourning

Her epidermic, home grown gown
It stretches as she spins around
Fit for one who dances on
For all tomorrow’s piksels

Thanks Amanda for this version!

All tomorrow’s piksels