It's about cats. It's not your usual song about cats.
Some people desire to be lions
Some others prefer to be cats
The mad little hatters, who'd opt for the latter?
Just what do you make of all that?
A lion's a king of the jungle
The top of the lunchable chain
A roar like Pat Benatar, teeth like a scimitar
Wrapped in the bushiest mane
And so full of grace is his dinner
For everything 'round him is prey
You're safe from your plight if he's sleeping tonight
But the hunger's just a whim away
*whispers: a whim away, a whim away...*
A kitty-cat's little-bit smaller
A cute and adorable thing
You're fine, baby bunting, his targets for hunting
Are meeses and pieces of string
But kitty-cats have the last chuckle
Yes, they've got one up on the lion
They get the most value from humans, I tell you
And do it without even tryin'
For what's around this mortal bone?
A dozen dozen pounds of flesh
(Though slightly more in San Antone
And slightly less in Bangladesh)
A single snack for those in Prides
But otherwise, a lifetime's source
Of ready meals served tableside
For felis catus kits, of course
So all throughout their lives
of two and seven
Their owner sees to it
that they've not fasted
And when the owner shuffles
off to heaven
They'll eat them anyway -
cause cats are bastards